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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Cliap^?_^opyright No._ 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 































LONGFELLOW’S HOME, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

































INTRODUCTION 


TO 

AMERICAN LITERATURE 


Part I. 


y BY 

F. V. N. PAINTER, A.M., D.D. 

V l 

Professor of Modern Languages in Roanoke College. 
Author of a History of Education, Introduction to English 

Literature, Etc. 





LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



Copyright, 1897, 

By Leach, Shewell, & Sanborn. 


c. j. PETERS 


SON, TYPOGRAPHERS, boston. 


BERWICK & SMITH, PRINTERS. 



PREFACE. 




<9 



MJ 

i 


This work is intended to be a companion volume to 
the “ Introduction to English Literature,” which has been 
cordially received by teachers in all parts of our country. 
As will be seen on examination, it follows substantially 
the same plan, though its limited field makes a fuller treat¬ 
ment desirable and feasible. 

What was said in the preface to that work about 
teaching literature may be substantially repeated here. 
Literature cannot be learned from the ordinary manuals. 
While they furnish many bare facts about literature, they 
do not present literature itself. As a result, the student 
knows nothing by his own investigation, and his literary 
training is reduced to an exercise of memory. 

The present work aims to introduce the student to 
American literature itself, with such helps as will give 
him an intelligent appreciation of it. The introductory 
chapter contains, it is hoped, some helpful observations. 
The “ General Survey ” of each period presents the con¬ 
ditions under which the various authors wrote. The 
sketches of the representative writers give with consider¬ 
able fulness the leading biographical facts, together with 
a critical estimate of their works. The selections for 
special study, which are chosen to illustrate the distin¬ 
guishing characteristics of each author, are supplied with 
explanatory notes. In this way, it may fairly be claimed, 
the student will gain a clear and satisfactory knowledge 
of our best authors. 

iii 



IV 


PREFACE. 


But in pursuing this method, another important result 
is obtained. In addition to this knowledge of our prin¬ 
cipal writers, the student learns something of the manner 
in which any author is to be studied. His literary taste 
is developed; and in his subsequent studies in literature, 
he will be capable, in some measure at least, of forming 
an intelligent and independent judgment. 

It should not be forgotten that this book, as its name 
indicates, is but an introduction to American literature. 
It is not intended to be a comprehensive manual of ref¬ 
erence. It treats only of the leading periods and princi¬ 
pal writers. In using the book in the class-room, for 
which it is chiefly designed, it is not necessary that the 
students be restricted to the texts supplied. If time 
permits, it is desirable that the study of the various 
authors be more extended. Other texts may be intro¬ 
duced in their proper periods ; and for such teachers as 
may desire to follow this course, or to give merely a gen¬ 
eral preparation for the intelligent reading of our leading 
authors, an edition is published without the annotated 
selections. 

With grateful feelings for the kind reception ac¬ 
corded his “ Introduction to English Literature,” the 
author sends forth the present work in the hope that 
it may be found likewise to supply a want. 


Roanoke College, 

March, 1897. 


F. V. N. PAINTER. 


PUBLISHERS’ NOTE. 

To meet the requirements of all institutions where American 
literature is regularly taught, the book is published with and with¬ 
out the annotated selections. 


CONTENTS. 


PART I. 

PAGE 

Introduction . t 

I. 

First Colonial Period. 9 

Captain John Smith.20 

Cotton Mather. 2 $ 

II. 

Second Colonial Period.31 

Benjamin Franklin.. 

Jonathan Edwards. 51 

III. 

Revolutionary Period. 59 

Thomas Jefferson.71 

Alexander Hamilton.81 

IV. . 

First National Period.91 

Washington Irving.108 

James Fenimore Cooper.122 

William Cullen Bryant.134 

Edgar Allan Poe . . . 150, 

Ralph Waldo Emerson..164 

Nathaniel Hawthorne.181 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.194 

James Russell Lowell.211 

John Greenleaf Whittier.225 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 239 

V. 

Second National Period.253 

v 


























AMERICAN LITERATURE 


INTRODUCTION. 

No other department of study is more important than 
that of literature. It not only supplies the mind with 
knowledge, but also refines it in thought and feeling. 
Literature embodies the best thought of the world, an 
acquaintance with which is the essential element of cul¬ 
ture. Of all literature, that of our native country stands 
in closest relation to us, and naturally possesses for us the 
greatest interest. 

The term literature needs to be carefully considered, 
and its general and its restricted meaning clearly com¬ 
prehended. In its widest sense, literature may be re¬ 
garded as including the aggregate body of printed matter 
in the world. It is thus a record of the acts, thoughts, 
and emotions of the human family. Its magnitude ren¬ 
ders it absolutely impossible for any man ever to become 
acquainted with more than a very small part of it. The 
largest libraries, notably that of the British Museum and 
the Bibliothbque Nationale of Paris, number more than 
a million volumes. 

This general or universal literature, of which we have 
just spoken, is obviously made up of national literatures. 
A national literature is composed of the literary produc- 


i 



2 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


tions of a particular nation. After reaching a state of 
civilization, every nation expresses its thoughts and feel¬ 
ings in writing. Thus we have the literature of Greece, 
of Rome, of England, of America, and of other nations 
both ancient and modern. * 

But the word literature has also a restricted meaning, 
which it is important to grasp. In any literary produc¬ 
tion we may distinguish between the thoughts that are 
presented, and the maimer in which they are presented. 
We may say, for example, “ The sun is rising; ” or, ascend 
ing to a higher plane of thought and emotion, we may 
present the same fact in the language of Thomson: — 

“ But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, 

Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 

The kindling azure, and the mountain’s brow 
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach 
Betoken glad.” 1 

It is thus apparent that the interest and value of litera¬ 
ture are largely dependent upon the manner or form in 
which the facts are presented. In its restricted sense, 
literature includes only those works that are polished or 
artistic in form. The classic works of a literature are 
those which present ideas of general and permanent in¬ 
terest in a highly finished or artistic manner. 

Literature is influenced or determined by whatever af¬ 
fects the thought and feeling of a people. Among the 
most potent influences that determine the character of 
a literature, whether taken in a broad or in a restricted 
sense, are race , epoch , and surroundings . This fact should 
be well borne in mind, for it renders a philosophy of litera¬ 
ture possible. We cannot fully understand any literature, 

l The Seasons. Summer, line 8i. 


INTR OD UC TION. 


3 


nor justly estimate it, without an acquaintance with the 
national traits of the writers, the general character of the 
age in which they lived, and the physical and social con¬ 
ditions by which they w.ere surrounded. This fact shows 
the intimate relation between literature and history. 

It has been questioned whether we have an American 
literature. But there is no reasonable ground for doubt. 
A fair survey of the facts will show that the literature of 
this country is distinctive in its thought and feeling. Our 
best works are not an echo of the literature of England, 
but a new and valuable contribution to the literature of 
the world. The best of Irving’s writings, the tales of 
Hawthorne, the “ Evangeline ” and “ Hiawatha ” of Long¬ 
fellow, not to mention many others, are filled with Amer¬ 
ican scenery, American thought, and American character. 

During the first two centuries of our history, while 
Shakespeare, Bacon, Milton, Dry den, Pope, Addison, John¬ 
son, and Goldsmith were adding lustre to English letters, 
our country produced but few works that deserve a place 
in classic literature. It could hardly have been otherwise. 
Our people were devoting their energies chiefly to the 
great task of subduing a wild continent, building towns 
and cities, producing mechanical inventions, conquering 
political independence, and establishing a social order 
based on the principle of human equality and human free¬ 
dom. These achievements are no less important than 
the production of an elegant literature, and really form 
the basis upon which the arts and sciences naturally rest. 
Material prosperity and political independence bring the 
leisure and culture that foster letters. It was so in the 
age of Pericles, of Augustus, of Elizabeth, and of Louis 
XIV. 


4 


AMERICAN- LITERATURE. 


The literature of America is the youngest of national 
literatures. While we must seek its beginnings in the 
early part of the seventeenth century, it is scarcely more 
than two generations ago that our literature entered upon 
a vigorous development. Though there are two great 
names in the last century, — those of Franklin and Ed¬ 
wards, — our polite literature really begins with Irving, 
Bryant, and Cooper, in the first quarter of the present 
century. This is a recent date in comparison with the 
literature of the leading nations of Europe. 

The literary history of England extends through no 
fewer than twelve centuries ; and already five hundred 
years ago it had produced in Chaucer one of the world’s 
great writers. The literary history of France covers an 
equally extended period ; and already in the Middle Ages 
it counted several famous epics. In Germany the great 
“ Nibelungen Lied ” was composed in the twelfth century. 
While it is true that we are “heirs of all the ages,” and 
as such have inherited the literary treasures of the past, 
the growth of our literature has been too short to realize 
the fulness of power that will come with greater maturity 
of age. 

Within the present century, American literature has 
had a remarkable development. In various departments 
— history, criticism, poetry — it has fairly vied with that 
of the mother country. Yet our highest literary achieve¬ 
ments probably lie in the future. With a territory capa¬ 
ble of supporting a population of five hundred millions, the 
task of the American people is not yet half accomplished. 
Material interests and social problems will continue, it 
may be for a long time, to absorb a large part of the best 
talent of our land. We are at present living our epic 


INTR OD UC TION. 


5 


poem, — the greatest the world has seen. But after this 
period of ardent striving and conflict is past, our golden 
age will come; and, having time to listen, we shall, per¬ 
haps, encourage some Homer or Milton to sing. 

No other country seems to present more favorable 
conditions for the development of a great literature. The 
most interesting factor in literature is the human element, 
— the presentation of the thoughts; emotions, and experi¬ 
ences of men. As literature naturally reflects national life, 
the nature of this element depends upon the culture and 
experience of the people. Nowhere else has life been 
more varied and more intense than in America; and no¬ 
where else, in the years to come, will it afford richer and 
more picturesque materials. 

American literature is an offshoot of English litera¬ 
ture, and shares the life of the parent stock. It uses the 
same language ; and its earliest writers were colonists who 
had received their education in England. The culture of 
this country is distinctively English in origin and char¬ 
acter ; the differences are but modifications growing out 
of the new environment. We owe our laws and our reli¬ 
gion chiefly to England ; and the political independence 
achieved through the Revolution did not withdraw us from 
the humanizing influence of English letters. 

In recent years, through the importation of French, 
German, and Russian books, our literary culture, as in 
other progressive countries, has become more cosmopolitan 
in character. But before that time, our reading was con¬ 
fined almost exclusively to English authors. The great 
English classics, from Chaucer down, we justly claim as 
our natural heritage. The leading movements in the lit¬ 
erary history of England have been reflected in America. 


6 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


In many cases a similarity of thought and style may 
be traced, as between Goldsmith and Irving, Scott and 
Cooper, Carlyle and Emerson. But this resemblance has 
not risen from feeble or conscious imitation; it has not 
interfered with the individuality of our authors, nor im¬ 
paired the excellence of their works. 

The literary history of our country may be divided into 
several periods, the general character of which is more or 
less sharply defined, though their limits naturally shade 
into one another by almost imperceptible degrees. The 
first period, which includes nearly the whole of the sev¬ 
enteenth century, may be called the First Colonial Period. 
The principal productions of this period represent, not 
American, but English, culture, and are concerned chiefly 
with a description of the New World, with the story of 
its colonization, or with a discussion of the theological 
questions that grew out of the great Protestant Reforma¬ 
tion in Europe. The next period, beginning with the eigh¬ 
teenth century, and extending to the Revolution, may be 
known as the Second Colonial Period. In the literature 
of this period, American life is reflected more fully, and 
two writers, Franklin and Edwards, stand out with great 
prominence. Then follows what we may designate the 
Revolutionary Period, extending from the Revolution to 
the War of 1812. The dominant influence in this period 
was the establishment of a new and independent govern¬ 
ment. Here belong the names of Washington, Jefferson, 
Hamilton, Madison, and Jay. This was followed by an 
era of Titerary bloom, which may be characterized as the 
First National Period. It covers the time lying between 
the War of 1812 and the Civil War, and furnishes the be¬ 
ginning of what is called polite literature, or belles-lettres , in 


INTR OD UC TION. 


7 


this country. To this period belong the greatest names of 
our literary history, — Irving, Cooper, Bryant, Hawthorne, 
Longfellow, and others. Lastly, we have the present pe¬ 
riod, which for convenience may be called the Second Na¬ 
tional Period. It begins with the Civil War, and exhibits 
a broad cosmopolitan tendency. Though it has produced 
but few writers of pre-eminent ability, it is characterized 
by unexampled literary activity, and by great excellence of 
literary form. 





/ 


FIRST COLONIAL PERIOD . 


REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS. 

JOHN SMITH. COTTON MATHER. 

{See sketches at the close of this section.) 


OTHER WRITERS. 

William Strachey, born 1585; secretary of the Virginia Colony 1610- 
1612. Wrote “ Wracke and Redemption of Sir Thomas Gates,” and 
“ Historie of Travaile into Virginia.” 

George Sandys (1577-1644). Removed to America in 1621, and became 
treasurer of the Virginia Colony. Translated in Virginia ten books of 
Ovid’s “ Metamorphoses.” 

WTlliam Bradford (1588-1657). One of the Mayflower colonists, gov¬ 
ernor of Plymouth for many years. “ History of Plymouth Colony ” 
from 1620 to 1647. 

John Winthrop (1588-1649). Came to Massachusetts in 1630, and was 
governor for many years. “History of New England” from 1630 
to 1649. 

John Cotton (1585-1652). Educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. 
Migrated to Boston in 1633, and became pastor of the First Church. 
A distinguished preacher. “ Singing of Psalms a Gospel Ordinance.” 

Edward Johnson (1599-1672). Came to New England in 1630. Was 
a representative in the General Court or legislature of Massachusetts 
for several terms. “ Wonder-working Providence of Zion’s Saviour in 
New England.” 

John Eliot (1604-1690). Graduated at Cambridge in 1623, and came 
to Boston in 1631. “The Apostle to the Indians,” into whose lan¬ 
guage he translated the Bible. In 1660 he published in England, 
“ The Christian Commonwealth; or, The Civil Policy of the Rising 
Kingdom of Jesus Christ.” 


9 



IO 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672). Wife of Governor Bradstreet. The 
earliest writer of verse in America. Her first volume was published 
in England under the title, “ The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung up in 
America.” 

Increase Mather (1638-1723). Graduated at Harvard in 1656; took 
his M.A. degree at Trinity College, Dublin. Pastor of Second Church 
in Boston; for six years (1685-1701) president of Harvard College. 
His publications number one hundred and sixty. 


I. 


FIRST COLONIAL PERIOD. 

(1607-1689.) 

General Survey. — The English were slow in estab¬ 
lishing colonies in the New World. While Spain was 
subduing Mexico and a large part of South America, they 
remained comparatively inactive. The French were ahead 
of them in Canada. But when at last the English under¬ 
took the work of colonization, the Anglo-Saxon vigor as¬ 
serted its superiority, and took possession of the fairest 
part of the American continent. From insignificant and 
unpromising beginnings, the English colonies rapidly de¬ 
veloped into a great nation, rivalling the mother country 
not only in commercial interests, but also in science and 
literature. 

The English occupation of this country began early in 
the seventeenth century with the establishment of two 
colonies, which were as different in character as they were 
widely removed from each other in space. The first of 
these colonies was founded in 1607 at Jamestown in Vir¬ 
ginia; the other in 1620 at Plymouth in New England. 
Both settlements, in their subsequent development, were 
destined to play an important part in the political and lit¬ 
erary history of our country. In a measure they repre¬ 
sented two different tendencies in politics and religion : 
the Virginia colonists upholding the Church of England 


11 


12 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


and standing by the king ; the New England colonists fa¬ 
voring a change in the English Church, and adhering to 
the Parliament. The one was thus conservative, the other 
progressive, — characteristics that are perceptible at the 
present day. 

Virginia. — It is beyond the scope of the present work 
to follow in detail the various trials and vicissitudes of the 
young settlement at Jamestown. The story is well known. 
Nearly the whole century was consumed in getting the 
colony firmly on its feet. For a time disease carried off 
a large number of the colonists and discouraged the rest. 
The Indians frequently became unfriendly, and made re¬ 
peated attempts to massacre the colonists. Many of the 
governors were incompetent and selfish ; and the energies 
of the people were at times wasted by dissension and 
strife. One man alone, during this early period, was able 
to plan and execute wisely ; and that was Captain John 
Smith. 

At various times during the century the colony re¬ 
ceived new accessions of immigrants. After the Civil 
War in England, and the establishment of the Protector¬ 
ate under Cromwell, many of the Royalists, adherents of 
Charles I., sought a home in the New World, and gave 
a distinct Cavalier tone to Virginia society. The man¬ 
ners of the mother country were in a measure reproduced. 
“ The Virginia planter was essentially a transplanted Eng¬ 
lishman in tastes and convictions, and emulated the social 
amenities and the culture of the mother country. Thus 
in time was formed a society distinguished for its refine¬ 
ment, executive ability, and generous hospitality, for which 
the Ancient Dominion is proverbial.” 1 

1 Winsor, Narrative and Critical History of America, Vol. III., p. 153. 


FIRST COLONIAL PERIOD. 


13 


It will be readily understood that the conditions in Vir¬ 
ginia during this period were not favorable to the produc¬ 
tion of literature. For the greater part of the first century, 
after the planting of the colony, the energies of the people 
were almost entirely absorbed in the difficult work of es¬ 
tablishing for themselves a permanent home. This task 
included not only the building of houses and the clearing 
of farms, but also the subduing of hostile and treacherous 
tribes of Indians. Under the stress of this toilsome and 
dangerous life, there could be but little leisure for the 
cultivation of literature as an art. The writings of the 
time were, for the most part, of a practical nature, designed 
either to preserve the history of the planting of the young 
nation, or to acquaint the people of the mother country 
with the wonders of the New World. 

In addition to these unfavorable surroundings, it can 
hardly be claimed that the social conditions in Virginia, 
during the period under consideration, were likely to foster 
literary taste and literary production. The colonists, de¬ 
voted to tobacco-planting and agriculture, settled on large 
plantations. There were no towns ; and even Jamestown, 
the capital, had at the close of the century only a state- 
house, one church, and eighteen private dwellings. But 
little attention was paid to education. There is scarcely 
any mention of schools before 1688; and learning fell 
into such general neglect that Governor Spottswood in 
1715 reproached the colonial assembly for having fur¬ 
nished two of its standing committees with chairmen who 
could not “ spell English or write common sense.” There 
was no printing-press in Virginia before 1681 ; and the 
printer was required to give bond not to print anything 
“ until his Majesty’s pleasure shall be known.” For 


14 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


nearly forty years of this period, from 1641 to 1677, Sir 
William Berkeley exerted his influence and power “ in fa¬ 
vor of the fine old conservative policy of keeping subjects 
ignorant in order to keep them submissive.” 1 When 
questioned in 1670 about the condition of Virginia, he 
said : “ I thank God there are no free schools nor print¬ 
ing ; and I hope we shall not have, these hundred years; 
for learning has brought disobedience, and heresy, and 
sects into the world, and printing has divulged them, and 
libels against the best government. God keep us from 
both.” 2 Surely under these circumstances there was but 
little encouragement to literature. 

Toward the close of the period before us, a growing 
interest in higher education resulted, in 1692, in the 
founding of the College of William and Mary, the oldest 
institution of learning in the South, and, after Harvard, 
the oldest in the United States. It received a cordial 
support not only in Virginia, but also in England. The 
lieutenant-governor headed the subscription list with a 
generous gift, and his example was followed by other 
prominent members of the colony. After the sum of 
twenty-five hundred pounds had thus been raised, the Rev. 
James Blair was sent to England to solicit a charter for 
the institution. This was readily granted ; and as a fur¬ 
ther evidence of the royal favor, the quit-rents yet due 
in the colony, amounting to nearly two thousand pounds, 
were turned over to the college. For its further support, 
twenty thousand acres of land were set apart for its use, 
and a tax of a penny a pound was laid on all tobacco ex¬ 
ported from Virginia and Maryland to other American 

1 Tyler, History of American Literature, p. 89. 

2 Campbell, History of Virginia, p. 273. 


FIRST COLONIAL PERIOD. 


15 


colonies. The college was located at Williamsburg; and 
the Rev. James Blair, who had been active in securing its 
establishment, was chosen as its first president. In the 
language of the charter, the college was founded “ to the 
end that the Church of Virginia may be furnished with a 
seminary of ministers of the Gospel, and that the youth 
may be piously educated in good letters and manners, and 
that Christian faith may be propagated among the western 
Indians to the glory of God.” The founding of this col¬ 
lege, though without influence upon literature during the 
First Colonial Period, supplied in the next century a num¬ 
ber of men who became illustrious in the political and 
literary history of their country. 

New England. — Thirteen years after the founding of 
Jamestown, the Mayflower, with one hundred and two 
colonists, landed at Plymouth. They were Puritans, who 
for the sake of conscience first exiled themselves in Hol¬ 
land ; and there considering that their nationality would 
finally be lost among the hospitable Dutch, they heroi¬ 
cally resolved to migrate to the New World. They recog¬ 
nized the difficulties of the undertaking; but, as one of 
their number tells us, it was replied that “ all great and 
honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, 
and must be both enterprised and overcome with answer- 
able courages.” 

Religion was a dominant factor in the character of the 
Puritans. In coming to America, they sought a refuge 
where, to use their own language, they “ might glorify 
God, do more good to their country, better provide for 
their posterity, and live to be more refreshed by their 
labors.” They were thorough-going Protestants ; but in 
their adherence to Scripture they fell into Hebrew rigor. 


16 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


They not only abstained from all forms of immorality, 
but they discountenanced innocent pleasures. 

Notwithstanding the difficulties which attended their 
settlement, — the rigor of the climate, the hostility of the 
Indians, and the interference of foes abroad, — the Puri¬ 
tan colony rapidly grew in numbers and influence. The 
despotism of Charles I. and the persecution instigated by 
Archbishop Laud drove some of the best people of Eng¬ 
land to seek religious and political freedom in the colony 
of Massachusetts. By the year 1640 the colony numbered 
more than twenty thousand persons, distributed in about 
fifty towns and villages. Tyranny had made them friends 
of constitutional government. 

In spite of superstition and religious intolerance, — 
evils belonging to the age, — New England was from the 
start the friend of popular intelligence and social prog¬ 
ress. The printing-press was introduced in 1639; an d 
though it was kept under close supervision, it was not 
allowed to remain entirely inactive. The Puritans deserve 
the credit of being the first community in Christendom 
to make ample provision for the instruction of the people. 
“ In the laws establishing common schools, lies the secret 
of the success and character of New England. Every 
child, as it was born into the world, was lifted from the 
earth by the genius of the country, and, in the statutes 
of the land, received, as its birthright, a pledge of the 
public care for its morals and its mind.” 1 

In order that the Scriptures might be properly under¬ 
stood, and that learning might not be buried in the grave 
of their fathers, as the Act of the General Court stated, 
it was ordered in 1647 in all the Puritan colonies, “that 

1 Bancroft, History of the United States, Vol. I., p. 459. 


FIRST COLONIAL PERIOD. 


1 7 

every township, after the Lord hath increased them to 
fifty householders, shall appoint one to teach all children 
to write and read; and when any town shall increase to 
the number of one hundred families, they shall set up a 
grammar school; the masters thereof being able to instruct 
youth so far as they may be fitted for the university.” 

Harvard College, the oldest institution of learning in 
the United States, was founded in 1636. In that year 
the Massachusetts assembly “ agreed to give four hundred 
pounds towards a school or college.” This appropriation 
was equivalent to the colony tax for one year, and from 
this point of view would equal at the present time several 
millions of dollars. Newtown, which was afterwards 
changed to Cambridge in memory of the English univer¬ 
sity town, was chosen as the site of the new college. 
When John Harvard, who died shortly after the founding 
of the college, bequeathed to it his library and one-half 
of his estate, his name was associated with the institution, 
which was destined to exert an untold influence upon the 
literary history of our country. 

We can now understand the literary pre-eminence of 
New England. From the first it was colonized by an 
earnest body of men of unusual intelligence. They lived 
together in towns, where perpetual contact sharpened 
their wits, and kept them in sympathy with subjects of 
common interest. Their attitude to religion led them to 
theological discussion. With some conception at least of 
the magnitude and far-reaching results of their undertak¬ 
ing, they minutely noted the facts of their experience, and 
sought to build a solid political structure. The tasks im¬ 
posed upon them, as well as their novel and picturesque 
surroundings, stimulated their minds to the highest ac- 


i8 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


tivity. From their surroundings and character we would 
not expect artistic form. They hardly thought of litera¬ 
ture as a fine art. But in their literature we find a manly 
strength and intense earnestness of purpose. 

The seventeenth century produced a large number of 
writers in New England. Most of their works, however, 
are of interest now only to the antiquarian or specialist. 
No masterpiece of literature, such as the Puritan Milton 
produced in England, appeared to adorn American letters. 
The first book printed was the “ Bay Psalm Book,” a rude 
rendering of the Hebrew. As the preface informs us, 
“ It hath been one part of our religious care and faithful 
endeavor to keep close to the original text. If, therefore, 
the verses are not always so smooth 'and elegant as some 
may desire or expect, . . . we have respected rather a 
plain translation than to smooth our verses with the sweet¬ 
ness of any paraphrase; and so have attended conscience 
rather than elegance, fidelity rather than poetry.” After 
this introduction we are not much surprised to read the 
following version of Psalm XIX. : — 


“ The heavens doe declare 
the majesty of God: 
also the firmament shews forth 
his handywork abroad. 

Day speaks to day, knowledge 
night hath to night declar’d. 
There neither speach nor language is, 
where their voyce is not heard. 
Through all the earth their line 
is gone forth, & unto 
the utmost end of all the world, 
their speaches reach also: 

A Tabernacle hee 

in them pitcht for the Sun, 


FIRST COLONIAL PERIOD. 


19 


Who Bridegroom like from’s chamber goes 
glad Giants-race to run. 

From heavens utmost end, 

his course and compassing; 
to ends of it, & from the heat 
thereof is hid nothing.” 


20 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH 

During the early colonial period, the first writer in time, 
as, perhaps, in prominence, is Captain John Smith of Virginia. 
His personal history, which he has himself related in full, reads 
like a romance. Indeed, so interesting and remarkable are the 
incidents of his life, as given in his several volumes, that it 
is impossible to escape the suspicion that he has freely sup¬ 
plemented and embellished the facts from the resources of 
his ample imagination. 

Yet, after all due abatement is made, the fact remains in¬ 
contestable, that his career presented striking vicissitudes of 
fortune, and that in the midst of trials and dangers he showed 
himself fertile in resources, and dauntless in courage. In more 
than one emergency, the colony at Jamestown owed its preser¬ 
vation to his sagacity and courage; and though from the begin¬ 
ning his superior abilities made him an object of envy, he had 
the magnanimity to extinguish resentment, and the unselfish¬ 
ness to labor for the good of his enemies. 

John Smith was born in Lincolnshire, England, in 1580, 
the son of a well-to-do farmer. He received a moderate edu¬ 
cation in the schools of Alford and Louth. His parents died 
when he was a lad of fifteen ; and though they left him a com¬ 
fortable fortune, he was not content quietly to enjoy it. His 
youthful heart was set on adventures abroad ; and only his 
father’s death prevented his running away from home and 
going to sea. He was afterwards bound as an apprentice to 
Thomas Sendall, a prominent merchant of Lynn ; but his rest¬ 
less disposition could not be satisfied with the unromantic 
duties of a counting-house, and hence he made his escape to 
give himself to a life of travel and adventure. 



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CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH 


2 


The next few years witnessed an astonishing amount of 
roving adventure. We find him in turn in Europe, Asia, and 
Africa, and everywhere encountering dangers and making mar¬ 
vellous escapes. He read military science, and disciplined 
himself to the use of arms. He served under Henry IV. of 
France, and then assisted the Dutch in their struggle against 
Philip II. of Spain. Afterwards, to use his own words, “He 
was desirous to see more of the world, and try his fortune 
against the Turks, both lamenting and repenting to have seen 
so many Christians slaughter one another.” 

Taking ship at Marseilles with a company of pilgrims 
going to Rome, he was angrily reproached for his Protestant 
heresy; and when a storm was encountered, his violent and 
superstitious fellow-travellers cast him, like another Jonah, into 
the sea. His good fortune did not desert him in this emer¬ 
gency. He succeeded in reaching a small, uninhabited island, 
from which he was shortly rescued and taken to Egypt. After 
other vicissitudes, including the capture of a rich Venetian 
argosy, he finally reached Vienna, and enlisted under the 
Emperor Rudolph II. against the Turks. 

In the campaigns that followed, he won the confidence of 
his commanders. At Regal, in Transylvania, he distinguished 
himself in the presence of two armies by slaying in succession, 
in single combat, three Turkish champions. For this deed of 
prowess he received a patent of nobility, and a pension of three 
hundred ducats a year. Afterwards he had the misfortune to 
be wounded in battle, and was captured by the Turks. Hav¬ 
ing been sold as a slave, he was taken to Constantinople, 
where he touched the heart of his mistress by relating to her, 
like another Othello, the whole story of his adventures. Sub¬ 
sequently, after spending some time in Tartary, he made his 
escape through Russia, and at length returned to England in 
1604. But his spirit of adventure was not yet satiated, and he 
at once threw himself into the schemes of colonization that 
were then engaging attention. He was one of the founders 
of the London Company. 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


22 


The landing of the colony at Jamestown and their early 
difficulties and trials have already been spoken of. In the 
language of Smith, “There were never Englishmen left in a 
foreign country in such misery as we were in this new discov¬ 
ered Virginia. We watched every three nights, lying on the 
bare cold ground, what weather soever came, and warded all the 
next day, which brought our men to be most feeble wretches. 
Our food was but a small can of barley sodden in water to 
five men a day. Our drink, cold water taken out of the river, 
which was, at a flood, very salt, at a low tide, full of. slime and 
filth, which was the destruction of many of our men.” In less 
than six months, more than one-half of the colony had per¬ 
ished. 

Smith encouraged the disheartened colonists, and wisely 
directed their labors, always bearing the heaviest part himself. 
Houses were built, and the land was tilled; and as often as 
supplies of food were needed, he succeeded in begging or 
bullying the Indians into furnishing what was needed. As 
opportunity presented itself, he diligently explored the country. 
It was on an expedition of discovery up the Chickahominy that 
he fell into the hands of Powhatan ; and in spite of his fertility 
in resources, he escaped death only through the well-known 
intercession and protection of the noble-minded Pocahontas. 

In recent years the truth of this story has been questioned; 
but an examination of the evidence hardly warrants us in pro¬ 
nouncing “the Pocahontas myth demolished.” Until a stronger 
array of facts can be adduced, it must still stand as the most 
beautiful and most romantic incident connected with the found¬ 
ing of the American colonies. 

While Smith had the direction of the colony as president, 
it prospered. The Indians were kept in subjection, and the 
colonists were wisely directed in their labors. But in 1609 a 
change took place. Five hundred new colonists arrived, and 
refused to acknowledge his authority. They robbed the In¬ 
dians, and plotted the murder of Smith. While dangers were 
thus gathering, an accident changed the course of events. As 


CAPTAIN- JOHN SMITH 


23 


Smith lay sleeping in his boat, the powder bag at his side 
exploded, and frightfully burned his body. In his agony he 
leaped overboard, and narrowly escaped drowning. In his 
disabled condition and need of medical aid, he returned to 
England in October,* 1609, and never visited Virginia again. 
His absence was sorely felt. The colonists soon fell into 
great disorder and distress. “The starving time ” came on; 
and in five months death reduced the number of colonists from 
four hundred and ninety to sixty. 

Two of the survivors of “the starving time” have left a 
noble estimate of the character of Smith : “What shall Isay ? 
but thus we lost him that in all his proceedings made justice 
his first guide and experience his second ; ever hating base¬ 
ness, sloth, pride, and indignity more than any dangers ; that 
never allowed more for himself than his soldiers with him ; 
that upon no danger would send them where he would not lead 
them himself; that would never see us want what he either 
had, or could by any means get us; that would rather want 
than borrow, or starve and not pay; that loved actions more 
than words, and hated cozenage and falsehood more than 
death ; whose adventures were our lives, and whose loss our 
death.” 

The next few years of his life, from 1610 to 1617, Smith 
spent in voyages to that section of our country which he 
named New England. While fishing for cod and bartering 
for furs, his principal object was to explore the coast, with a 
view to establish a settlement. He explored and mapped the 
country from the Penobscot to Cape Cod. His explorations 
in this region earned for him the title of “ Admiral of New 
England.” On his last expedition he was captured by a 
French pirate, and carried prisoner to Rochelle. But soon 
effecting his escape, he made his way back to England, which 
he seems never to have left again. The last years of his life 
were devoted to authorship. Among his numerous works may 
be mentioned the following: “A True Relation ” (1608) ; “A 
Description of New England” (1616); “The General History 


24 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


of Virginia” (1624); and “The True Travels” (1630). He 
died June 21, 1631, and was buried in St. Sepulchre’s Church, 
London. 

He has left us an admirable summary of his remarkable 
life : “ Having been a slave to the Turks ; prisoner among the 
most barbarous savages ; after my deliverance commonly dis¬ 
covering and ranging those large rivers and unknown nations 
with such a handful of ignorant companions that the wiser sort 
often gave me up for lost; always in mutinies, wants, and mis¬ 
eries; blown up with gunpowder; a long time a prisoner among 
the French pirates, from whom escaping in a little boat by my¬ 
self. . . . And many a score of the worst winter months have 
I lived in the fields ; yet to have lived thirty-seven years in the 
midst of wars, pestilences, and famine, by which many a hun¬ 
dred thousand have died about me, and scarce -five living of 
them that went first with me to Virginia, and yet to see the 
fruits of my labors thus well begin to prosper (though I have 
but my labor for my pains), have I not much reason, both pri¬ 
vately and publicly, to acknowledge it, and give God thanks ? ” 

After all necessary abatement is made in the account he 
has given of his life, it is apparent that he was no ordinary 
man. He was great in word and deed. His voluminous writ¬ 
ings are characterized by clearness, force, and dramatic energy. 
His intellect was cast in the large mould of the era to which 
he belonged. He was a man of broad views. As a leader he 
displayed courage and executive ability; and few American 
explorers have shown the same indomitable energy. Though 
restless, ambitious, and vain, he was noble in aim and gener¬ 
ous in disposition. During the first quarter of the seventeenth 
century “ he did more than any other Englishman to make an 
American nation and an American literature possible.” 



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COTTON MATHER. 


























































































































COTTON MATHER. 


25 


COTTON MATHER. 

Among the numerous writers of the first colonial era in New 
England, Cotton Mather stands as a kind of literary behemoth. 
In literary productiveness, though not in weighty character, he 
appears in the literature of the time with something of the 
hugeness that afterwards distinguished Samuel Johnson in 
England. His published writings reach the astonishing num¬ 
ber of three hundred and eighty-three; and while many of 
them, it is true, are only pamphlets, there are also among them 
bulky volumes. 

He was the third of a line of distinguished ancestors, the 
relative standing of whom is given in an old epitaph: — 

“ Under this stone lies Richard Mather, 

Who had a son greater than his father, 

And eke a grandson greater than either.” 

This grandson was of course Cotton Mather, who was born 
Feb. 12, 1663, in Boston. On the side of his mother, who was 
a daughter of the celebrated pulpit-orator John Cotton, he like¬ 
wise inherited talents of no usual order. After receiving his 
preparatory training in the free school of Boston, he entered 
Harvard College, at the age of twelve years, with superior at¬ 
tainments. During his collegiate course he was distinguished 
for his ability and scholarship; and at the time of his gradua¬ 
tion, the president of the college, with a reference to his double 
line of illustrious ancestors, said in a Latin oration : “ I trust 
that in this youth Cotton and Mather will be united and flour¬ 
ish again.” 

He may be regarded as a typical product of the Puritan cul¬ 
ture of his time ; and with this fact in mind, his life becomes 


26 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


doubly interesting. He possessed a deeply religious nature, 
which asserted itself strongly even in his youth, and drove him 
to continual introspection. Troubled with doubts and fears 
about his salvation, he became serious in manner, and spent 
much time in prayer and fasting. At the same time he was 
active in doing good, instructing his brothers and sisters at 
home, and fearlessly reproving his companions for profanity 
or immorality. 

After leaving college, Cotton Mather spent several years in 
teaching. But inheriting two great ecclesiastical names, it 
was but natural for him to think of the ministry. Unfortu¬ 
nately, he was embarrassed by a strongly marked impediment 
of speech; but upon the advice of a friend, accustoming him¬ 
self to “dilated deliberation” in public speaking, he succeeded 
in overcoming this difficulty. He preached his first sermon at 
the age of seventeen, and a few months afterwards was called 
to North Church, the leading congregation in Boston, as asso¬ 
ciate of his father. His preaching was well received — a fact 
about which, perhaps, he was unduly concerned. With his 
habit of dwelling upon his inward states of mind, he noted in 
his Diary (to which we are much indebted for an insight into 
his subjective life) a tendency to sinful pride, which he en¬ 
deavored to suppress by the doubtful expedient of calling him¬ 
self opprobrious names. 

His method of sermonizing and preaching is well worth 
noting. It was the age of heroic sermons, the length of which 
was counted, not by minutes, but by hours. When he was at a 
loss for a text, “ he would make a prayer to the Holy Spirit of 
Christ, as well to find a text for him as to handle it.” But he 
was far from a lazy reliance upon divine aid. He carefully 
examined his text in the original language, and consulted the 
commentaries upon it. He very properly chose his subjects, 
not with a view to display his abilities, but to edify his hearers. 
Unlike his father, who laboriously committed his sermons to 
memory, he made use of extended notes, and thus gained both 
the finish of studied discourse, and the fervor of extemporane¬ 
ous speaking. 


COTTON MATHER. 


2 7 


The question of marriage was suggested, not by the draw- 
ing of a tender, irresistible passion, but by calm, rational con¬ 
siderations of utility. Accordingly, there was nothing rashly 
precipitate in his courtship; “ he first looked up to heaven for 
direction, and then asked counsel of his friends.” The person 
fixed upon at last as his future companion was the daughter of 
Colonel Philips of Charlestown, to whom he was shortly after¬ 
wards married. “ She was a comely, ingenious woman, and an 
agreeable consort.” This union, as also his second marriage, 
was a happy one ; but it is a suggestive fact that his third wife 
is referred to in his Diary only in Latin. She made his life 
wretched; and it is still uncertain whether she was the victim 
of insanity or of a demoniac ill-temper. 

From childhood, as is the case with most persons of ex¬ 
traordinary gifts, he was conscious of his superior ability, and 
expected and labored to be a great man. He assiduously em¬ 
ployed every moment of time, keeping up a perpetual tension 
of exertion. Over the door of his library he wrote in capital 
letters the suggestive legend, “ BE SHORT.” His daily life 
was governed by a mechanical routine ; yet, after the Puritanic 
fashion, he upbraided himself with slothfulness. 

He mastered not only Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, which 
was expected of every scholar of the time, but also Spanish, 
French, and one of the Indian tongues, in most of which he 
published books. He had the marvellous power, possessed by 
Spurgeon, Gladstone, and Macaulay, of mastering the contents 
of a book with almost incredible rapidity. According to the 
testimony of his son, “ He would ride post through an author.” 
He had the largest library in New England; and its contents 
were so at command, that “ he seemed to have an inexpres¬ 
sible source of divine flame and vigor.” His literary activity 
was extraordinary. In a single year, besides keeping twenty 
fasts and discharging all the duties of a laborious pastorate, 
he published fourteen books. It is not strange that one of his 
contemporaries, in the presence of this extraordinary activity, 
should exclaim : — 

“ Is the blest Mather necromancer turned ? ” 


28 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Among his numerous works, there is one that stands with 
monumental pre-eminence ; it is the “ Magnalia Christi Ameri¬ 
cana; or, The Ecclesiastical History of New England,” from its 
first planting in the year 1620 to the year of our Lord 1698. 
It may justly be regarded as the most important book pro¬ 
duced in America during the seventeenth century. Its scope 
will appear from the topics treated of in its seven books. The 
first book gives an account of the settlement of New England ; 
the second contains “ the lives of the governors and the names 
of the magistrates that have been shields unto the churches of 
New England ; ” the third recounts “ the lives of sixty famous 
divines, by whose ministry the churches of New England have 
been planted and continued ; ” the fourth is devoted to the 
history of Harvard College, and of “ some eminent persons 
therein educated ; ” the fifth describes “ the faith and order of 
the churches ; ” the sixth speaks of “ many illustrious discov¬ 
eries and demonstrations of the divine providence in remark* 
able mercies and judgments ” — the book in which, it is said, 
his soul most delighted ; and the seventh narrates “ the afflic¬ 
tive disturbances which the churches of New England have 
suffered from their various adversaries,” namely, impostors, 
Quakers, Separatists, Indians, and the Devil. 

The work is a treasure-house of information. No histo¬ 
rian was ever better equipped for his work. Besides access to 
a multitude of original -documents that have since perished, he 
was acquainted with many of the leading men of New England, 
and had himself been identified with various important politi¬ 
cal and ecclesiastical interests. Yet the manner in which he 
discharged the functions of historian is not altogether satisfac¬ 
tory. Perhaps he was too near the events to be strictly impar¬ 
tial. His personal feelings— his friendships or his animosities 
— were allowed, perhaps unconsciously, to color his statements; 
and in regard to his facts, he is open to the very serious charge 
of being careless and inaccurate. While his work i’s indispen¬ 
sable for a thorough understanding of New England history, it 
is always safe to have his statement of important facts corrob¬ 
orated by collateral testimony. 


COTTON MATHER. 


2 9 


Notwithstanding his laborious application to reading and 
study, Cotton Mather was interested in a surprising number of 
philanthropic undertakings. He wrote a book entitled “ Boni- 
facius, an Essay upon the Good that is to be Devised and 
Designed, with Proposals of Unexceptionable Methods to do 
Good in the World,” — a work that places philanthropy upon 
a business basis, and anticipates many of the benevolent asso¬ 
ciations of the present day. Of this book Benjamin Franklin 
says that it “ perhaps gave me a turn of thinking, that had an 
influence on some of the principal future events of my life.” 1 
Cotton Mather sought to check the vice of drunkenness, and 
was perhaps our first temperance reformer. Though he pur¬ 
chased a slave (for slavery then existed in New England), he 
interested himself in the education of negroes, and at his own 
expense established a school for their instruction. He wrote 
a work on the Christianizing of the negroes, and noted in his 
Diary : “ My design is, not only to lodge a copy in every family 
in New England, that has a negro in it, but also to send num¬ 
bers of them into the Indies.” He took an interest in foreign 
missions, and proposed to send Bibles and Psalters among the 
nations. 

The darkest feature in the life of Cotton Mather — a fea¬ 
ture which avenging critics have by no means lost sight of — is 
his connection with the witchcraft tragedy. In common with 
people of every class in his day, he believed in the reality of 
witchcraft. In 1685, the year he was ordained, he published a 
work entitled “Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft,” 
which had the misfortune of being quoted as an authority in 
connection with the Salem horrors. Looking upon himself as 
specially set for the defence of Zion, he gave himself with Old 
Testament zeal to the extermination of what he believed a 
work of the Devil. 

Over against this dreadful delusion should be placed his 
heroic conduct in advocating vaccination at a time when it was 
considered a dangerous and impious innovation. When the 

1 Autobiography, chap. i. 


30 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


smallpox made its appearance in Boston, the physicians, with 
one honorable exception, were opposed to the newly advocated 
system of vaccination on the general principle, strange to say, 
that “ it was presumptuous in man to inflict disease on man, 
that being the prerogative of the Most High.” The matter 
was discussed with great bitterness of feeling ; and the mass 
of the people, as well as the civil authorities, were against the 
new treatment. But Cotton Mather had been convinced of 
the efficacy of vaccination ; and accordingly, though he knew 
it would cost him his popularity, and perhaps expose him to 
personal violence, he resolutely faced the popular clamor, and 
boldly vindicated the truth. It was only after the lapse of con¬ 
siderable time that he had the satisfaction of seeing the popu¬ 
lar prejudice give way. 

It was a great disappointment to Cotton Mather that he 
was never chosen president of Harvard College, a position to 
-which he ardently, though as he thought unselfishly, aspired. 
On two occasions, when he confidently expected election, he 
was humiliated by seeing less learned men chosen for the 
place. He attributed his defeat to the influence of his ene¬ 
mies, and never for a moment suspected the real cause, which 
was a distrust, perhaps too well founded, of his prudence and 
judgment. 

He died Feb. 13, 1728. Though not a man of great ori¬ 
ginal genius, his mind was massive and strong. He had the 
quality which some have held to be the essential thing in 
genius,—the power of indomitable and systematic industry. 
His spiritual life, while influenced by Puritanic ideals, was 
profound; and unbelief has sometimes mocked at experiences 
which it lacked the capacity to understand. He was followed 
to the grave by an immense procession, including all the high 
officers of the Province; and the general feeling was that a 
great man had fallen, the weight of whose life, in spite of 
imperfections, had been on the side of righteousness. 


SECOND COLONIAL PERIOD. 


REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 

OTHER WRITERS. 

David Brainerd (1718-1747). Missionary to the Indians. A man of 
strong mental powers, fervent zeal, and extensive knowledge. “ Mira- 
bilia Dei inter Indicos ” and “ Divine Grace Displayed ” are made up 
of his missionary journals. 

William Livingston (1723-1790). Jurist, legislator, and poet. For 
a time governor of New Jersey. Author of the poem “ Philosophic 
Solitude.” 

Mather Byles (1706-1788). Preacher, poet, and wit. He published a 
volume of poems in 1736. 

William Byrd (1674-1744). Founder of the cities of Richmond and 
Petersburg. Author of the “ History of the Dividing Line ” between 
Virginia and North Carolina, — “ one of the most delightful of the 
literary legacies of the colonial age.” 

James Blair (1656-1743). Founder of William and Mary College. 
Author of “ The Present State of Virginia and the College,” and 
“ Our Saviour’s Divine Sermon on the Mount.” 

William Stith (1689-1755). President of William and Mary College, 
and author of the “ History of the First Discovery and Settlement 
of Virginia,” — “in accuracy of detail not exceeded by any American 
historical work.” 

Samuel Sewall (1652-1730). A graduate of Harvard, and chief-justice 
of Massachusetts in 1718. Among his works are “Answer to Quer¬ 
ies Respecting America,” and especially his “ Diary,” which presents 
an interesting and graphic account of Puritan life in the seventeenth 
century. 


31 






II. 


SECOND COLONIAL PERIOD . 

(1689-1763.) 

The early history of America has a peculiar interest 
for those who perceive the relation of its events to the 
subsequent development of the country. The growth of 
a great nation can be clearly traced step by step. Great 
interests were involved in the success or failure of ap¬ 
parently small enterprises. The life of a nation — princi¬ 
ples upon which the welfare of future millions depended 
— was often at stake in some obscure and apparently in¬ 
significant struggle. 

The history of this period, with its small exploring 
parties, savage massacres, and petty military campaigns, 
seems at first sight to be a confused mass of disconnected 
events. But in . the life of nations, as of individuals, 
“ there is a destiny that shapes our ends; ” and through¬ 
out all the maze of injustice, tyranny, and bloodshed, it 
is now possible to discern the divine purpose. God was 
keeping watch by the cradle of a great people. 

With the beginning of the eighteenth century, America 
entered upon a new stage of progress. All the thirteen 
colonies, except Georgia, had been established. The toil 
and dangers of early settlement had been overcome. The 
colonies had largely increased in population ; and agricul¬ 
ture, manufacture, and commerce had made a substantial 


33 


34 


AMERICAN- LITER A TURE. 


beginning. By the close of the period the population of 
the colonies had reached more than a million and a half. 
In 1738 forty-one topsail vessels, averaging a hundred and 
fifty tons, were built in Boston. 

The educational interests of the colonies kept pace 
with their material advancement. In New England there 
was not an adult, born in this country, who could not read 
and write. During this period seven colleges-—Yale, 
Princeton, King’s (now Columbia), Brown, Queen’s (after¬ 
wards Rutgers), Dartmouth, and Hampden-Sidney — were 
founded. In 1704 the News-Letter , the first periodical 
of the New World, was published in Boston; and before 
the close of the French and Indian War in 1763, ten 
other newspapers had made their appearance in various 
colonies. The press at last became free. Official censor¬ 
ship received its death-blow in New York in 1734, when 
Andrew Hamilton, an aged lawyer of Philadelphia, ad¬ 
dressed the jury in behalf of an imprisoned printer : “The 
question before you is not the cause of a poor printer, nor 
of New York alone; it is the best cause — the cause of 
liberty. Every man who prefers freedom to a life of sla¬ 
very will bless and honor you as men who, by an impartial 
verdict, lay a noble foundation for securing to ourselves, 
our posterity, and our neighbors, that to which nature 
and the honor of our country have given us a right — 
the liberty of opposing arbitrary power by speaking and 
writing truth.” 

It is not strange that the future greatness of America 
began to dawn upon the minds of men. The world had 
never before witnessed such a rapid increase of prosperity 
and power. In contemplating the rising glory of America, 
an Italian poet sang that the spirit of ancient Rome, im- 


SECOND COLONIAL PERIOD. 


35 


mortal and undecayed, was spreading towards the New 
World. Bishop Berkeley, in prophetic vision, foretold a 
“golden age,” when the arts would flourish, and when 
a race of “ wisest heads and noblest hearts ” would be 
born : — 

“ Not such as Europe breeds in her decay 

Such as she bred when fresh and young, 

When heavenly flame did animate her clay, 

By future poets shall be sung. 

Westward the course of empire takes its way; 

The first four acts already past, 

A fifth shall close the drama with the day; 

Time’s noblest offspring is the last.” 

In England it was believed that the colonial leaders 
were secretly meditating and planning independence. 
Though this was undoubtedly a mistake, yet a growing 
national feeling is clearly discernible in the utterances 
and relations of the colonies. It could not well be other¬ 
wise in the presence of their increasing prosperity and 
promising future, and of the strengthening ties that bound 
them together. The colonists were chiefly of Teutonic 
origin. They came to this country as voluntary exiles in 
order to escape religious or political oppression, and were 
thus united by the sympathy of suffering and sacrifice. 
For the most part they used the English language; and 
though there were Puritans, Episcopalians, Quakers, Hu¬ 
guenots, and Presbyterians, they were nearly all warm 
adherents of Protestantism. Yet, in spite of these strong 
affinities, the colonies were for a long time jealous and 
distrustful of one another. Their interests were not re¬ 
garded as common ; and without the pressure of external 
circumstances they would probably have remained a long 
time separated. 


36 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


This external pressure, which was necessary to bring 
the colonies into closer relationship, was not lacking. It 
came from two opposite sources. In the first place, the 
policy of England was admirably adapted to develop a 
spirit of freedom, and to unite the colonies in a common 
resistance of oppression. At that time it was the prevail¬ 
ing view abroad that the colonies existed solely for the 
benefit of the mother country. Consequently, the meas¬ 
ures of government were adopted, not for the welfare of 
the colonies, but for the profit of England. This unjust 
policy naturally provoked opposition in a people who had 
abandoned home and country for the sake of freedom. 

The other influence impelling the colonies to confede¬ 
ration came from the ambitious schemes of France. As 
will have been noticed, the English colonies extended 
along the Atlantic seaboard from Maine to Florida. 
Though their territory theoretically extended across the 
continent, their settlements did not reach inland more 
than a hundred miles. To prevent the further extension 
of the English colonies, the French formed the magnifi¬ 
cent plan of occupying the interior of the continent, and 
thus of confining their enemies to a narrow belt on the 
Atlantic coast. They already had possession of Canada; 
and ascending the St. Lawrence, they established forts 
and trading-posts along the southern shores of the Great 
Lakes, and thence down the Mississippi to New Orleans. 
Having discovered the Mississippi, they laid claim to all 
the territory drained by its waters; that is to say, to the 
magnificent empire lying between the Alleghany and the 
Rocky Mountains. “If the French,” wrote the governor 
of New York in 1687, “have all that they pretend to have 
discovered in these parts, the king of England will not 


SECOND COLONIAL PERIOD. 


37 


have a hundred miles from the sea anywhere.” A con¬ 
flict between the English and the French thus became 
inevitable; and the stake involved was nothing less than 
the life of the English colonies, and the possession of the 
American continent. In the presence of this conflict, the 
instinct of self-preservation drew the colonies into closer 
sympathy and union. 

The struggle between England and France for the 
possession of America — a struggle that lasted with inter¬ 
missions for more than seventy years — began in 1689, 
the dividing-point between the two colonial periods. First 
came King William’s War, when Louis XIV. espoused 
the cause of James II., and Count Frontenac was sent to 
be governor of Canada, with orders to conquer New York. 
Then followed in quick succession Queen Anne’s War, or 
the War of the Spanish Succession; King George’s War, 
or the War of the Austrian Succession ; and lastly, the 
Seven Years’ War, or the French and Indian War. These 
various wars, as their names generally indicate, grew out 
of conflicting European interests; but since England and 
France, as hostile nations, were invariably opposed to each 
other, their colonies in America were always drawn into 
the conflict. The course of these successive wars, with 
their varying fortunes and sickening massacres, cannot 
here be followed in detail. With the Treaty of Paris in 
1763 the conflict in America finally came to an end by 
the cession of Canada and the Mississippi Valley to Eng¬ 
land. At one blow the French possessions in America 
and French schemes for a great western empire were 
forever swept away. 

Had the issue of this protracted struggle been in favor 
of France, the course of American history and of Ameri- 


33 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


can literature would have been very different. French 
colonization in America represented three distinct tenden¬ 
cies, from all of which the English colonists had broken 
away. First of all, in direct antagonism against popular 
government, Louis XIV. stood for despotism. His atti¬ 
tude toward France is indicated in his famous saying, 
“ L'Etat cest moi.” In the second place, the colonization 
undertaken by the French carried with it the feudal sys¬ 
tem. Instead of the political and social equality recognized 
and encouraged in the English colonies, it meant the class 
system of nobles and inferiors. In the third place, the 
success of the French meant the establishment of a wholly 
different form of belief and worship. The most enter¬ 
prising and devoted of the French explorers were Jesuits, 
whose self-sacrificing work among the Indians sometimes 
reached the highest point of heroism. In short, if the 
French schemes had been successful, the result would 
have been, as was contemplated, a new mediaeval France, 
which in its development, having possession of the largest 
and fairest part of the continent, would have driven the 
English colonies into the Atlantic Ocean. 

The first step towards a general union of the American 
colonies was taken in 1684. The French had encroached 
upon the territory of the Five Nations in New York; and 
in preparation for the inevitable conflict, the Indians de¬ 
sired to form a treaty of peace with the English. Accord¬ 
ingly, a convention composed of delegates from Virginia, 
Maryland, New York, and Massachusetts, met at Albany. 
For the first time, the northern and the southern colonies 
came together to consider the common welfare. The con¬ 
ference resulted in a treaty; and the Mohawk chief at its 
conclusion spoke better than he knew when he said: “ We 


SECOND COLONIAL PERIOD. 


39 


now plant a tree whose top will reach the sun, and its 
branches spread far abroad, so that it shall be seen afar 
off, and we shall shelter ourselves under it, and live in 
peace without molestation.” 

The necessity of a closer general union gradually be¬ 
came more apparent. In 1698 William Penn proposed a 
plan of federation. In 1754 the Convention of Albany, 
composed of representatives from six of the colonies, re¬ 
solved that a union ought to be formed, and accordingly 
recommended the adoption of a constitution, the outlines 
of which had been drawn up by Franklin. But this con¬ 
stitution was disapproved in England, because it allowed 
too much freedom to the colonies ; and it was rejected by 
the colonies, because it gave too much authority to Eng¬ 
land. Thus, though the sentiment of union was steadily 
growing, it did not reach full practical realization. That 
consummation, which was to mark the birth of the Amer¬ 
ican nation, was reserved for the following period. 

The changed conditions of American life during this 
period exerted a salutary influence upon literature. While 
the conditions were far from being ideal, they marked a 
considerable advance upon those of the earlier period, and 
thus gave a broader scope and better form to literary 
productions. The hard and unceasing struggle for exis¬ 
tence characteristic of the greater part of the first colonial 
period had given place to comparative ease and comfort. 
While there was but little accumulation of wealth, there 
were, especially in the older colonies, many comfortable 
homes, in which books and leisure supplied the opportunity 
for culture. Several considerable cities —'Boston, New 
York, and Philadelphia — served in some degree as lit¬ 
erary centres. The growing number of schools added to 


40 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


the popular intelligence. The newspapers furnished top¬ 
ics for general thought and discussion, while the closer 
relations and larger interests of the colonies gave a wider 
horizon to the intellectual life of the people. 

As the writers of this second colonial period were 
American by birth and education, their works assume a 
more original and more distinctive character. The writ¬ 
ings of this period, whether in philosophy, theology, his¬ 
tory, politics, or poetry, possessed, in addition to a higher 
artistic excellence, a perceptible American flavor. Not 
many authors attained to distinction; but among the 
shoal of insignificant writers, there were two leviathans, 
— Benjamin Franklin and Jonathan Edwards,—who be¬ 
came eminent not only in the colonies, but also in England 
and on the Continent. 






































BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 


41 


BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 

No other American, excepting only the Father of his Coun¬ 
try, is more interesting to people of every class than Benjamin 
Franklin. His popularity has been extraordinary. Since his 
death, a little more than a hundred years ago, no decade has 
passed without the publication of a biography or a new edition 
of his works. His “Autobiography,” the most popular histori¬ 
cal work of America, possesses a perennial interest. It is re¬ 
plete not only with interesting incident, but also with genial 
humor and profound practical wisdom. 

The facts of his life are so well known that it is not neces¬ 
sary to dwell upon them. He was born in Boston, Jan. 17, 
1706 — the youngest of an old-fashioned family of ten children. 
From his father, who was a candlemaker and soap-boiler, he 
inherited not only a strong physical constitution, but his “ solid 
judgment in prudential matters.” He attended the free gram¬ 
mar schools of Boston about a year, and gave promise of 
becoming a good scholar; but owing to the straitened cir¬ 
cumstances of his father, he was taken away in order to cut 
wicks, mould candles, and run errands—all which he heartily 
disliked. 

From childhood he was passionately fond of reading, and 
he used the little money that came into his hands to buy books. 
His first purchase was Bunyaips “ Pilgrim’s Progress,” which 
after being read and re-read was sold to buy Burton’s “ Histori¬ 
cal Collections ” — a class of writings of which he was specially 
fond. Among the books of his early reading were Plutarch’s 
“Lives ” and Mather’s “Essay to do Good,” which he specially 
mentions as exerjing a salutary influence upon his mind and 
character. He did not escape the common temptation of book- 


42 


AMERICAJV LITERATURE. 


ish youths to attempt poetry, and wrote two ballads which, in 
spite of a flattering success at the time, he afterwards charac¬ 
terized, and no doubt justly, as “ wretched stuff.” From the 
danger of becoming a sorry poet he was timely rescued by his 
father, who with Philistine coldness called his attention to the 
fact that “ v.erse-makers were generally beggars.” 

But his literary instincts were not to be quenched; and 
though he gave up poetry, he cultivated prose with great ardor. 
To increase his fluency, he was accustomed to engage in dis¬ 
cussion with another literary lad by the name of Collins; but 
he had the good sense to escape the disputatious habit which 
this practice is in danger of developing, and which wise people, 
he tells us, seldom fall into. He modelled his style after Addi¬ 
son’s Spectator , which was then a novelty in the colonies. 
But he had too much force of mind and character to become 
a mere imitator; and through a laborious apprenticeship he 
developed a style that is admirable for its simplicity, clearness, 
and force. 

He was early encouraged in his literary efforts. At the age 
of twelve he had been apprenticed to his brother James to 
learn the printing business. Here he worked on the New Eng¬ 
land Courant , the second newspaper that appeared in America. 
Some of the contributors occasionally met in the office to dis¬ 
cuss the little essays that had appeared in the paper. Having 
caught the mania for appearing in print, and fearing to have 
his productions rejected if the authorship were known, he dis¬ 
guised his hand, wrote an anonymous paper, and slipped it at 
night under the door of the printing-house. It was found next 
morning, and discussed by the little company that called in as 
usual. “They read it,” he says, “commented on it in my hear¬ 
ing, and I had the exquisite pleasure of finding it met with their 
approbation, and that, in their different guesses at the author, 
none were named but men of some character among us for 
learning and ingenuity.” It is not strange that he continued 
his anonymous communications for some time. 

The apprenticeship, though not till he had mastered the 


BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 


43 


printer’s trade, came to an abrupt termination. Long dissatis¬ 
fied with the ill-treatment received from his brother, who was 
a high-tempered, overbearing man, he at last ran away at the 
age of seventeen. He landed first at New York; and failing 
to find employment there, he continued his journey to Philadel¬ 
phia. The figure he cut that first Sunday morning as he walked 
the streets with a roll under each arm, and excited the laughter 
of the young lady he afterwards married, is familiar to every 
one. He found employment, and attracted the notice of Gov¬ 
ernor Keith, who after a time persuaded him to go to England 
for a printer’s outfit. 

On reaching England, he found that he had been duped by 
Keith, who belonged to that class of men lavish in promises 
but miserly in help. The letter of credit which the governor 
had promised was wanting. In his embarrassment, Franklin 
was advised by a prudent business man whom he had met on 
the vessel, to seek employment at his trade. “Among the 
printers here,” his friend argued, “you will improve yourself, 
and when you return to America, you will set up to greater 
advantage.” This advice he wisely followed, and successively 
worked in two large printing-houses, where he used his eyes to 
good advantage. He practised his usual industry and temper¬ 
ance, and commanded the respect of his associates. 

After spending eighteen months in London, where his life 
morally was far from being a model, he received an advanta¬ 
geous offer to return to Philadelphia and enter a store as clerk. 
After a promising beginning, this arrangement was in a few 
months brought to an end by the merchant’s death. Franklin 
then returned to printing, and engaged with Keimer, for whom 
he had worked before going to England. The deficiencies of 
the printing-office were supplied by Franklin’s ingenuity; for he 
cast type, prepared engravings, made ink, was “warehouse 
man, and, in short, quite a factotum” But as he taught the 
other workmen of the office, among whom were “ a wild Irish¬ 
man” and “an Oxford scholar,” his services became less ne¬ 
cessary ; and on the first opportunity his employer provoked a 


44 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


quarrel, and brought the engagement to an end. This led to 
Franklin’s setting up for himself; and he now entered upon 
a career of uninterrupted prosperity, which was to continue for 
more than sixty years. 

But in the midst of his business projects, he did not neglect 
his literary culture. He formed a club, which was called the 
Junto, and to which most of his friends of literary taste be¬ 
longed. Its object was mutual improvement by means of es¬ 
says and discussions. For greater convenience of reference, 
a library was formed, each member of the club loaning such 
books as he could spare. Afterwards Franklin started a sub¬ 
scription library, the first of its kind in America. The club 
continued for nearly forty years, and was the best school of 
philosophy, morality, and politics in the province. 

Beyond most men, Franklin had the power of self-control. 
He was thus able from early manhood to bring his conduct 
under the direction of principles which he had deliberately 
adopted in the light of reason. When he was told by a Quaker 
friend that he was generally thought to be proud, and when he 
was satisfied of the fact by the evidence adduced (it would 
have been hard to convince most men), he at once added hu¬ 
mility to the list of virtues in which he was to exercise himself; 
and he succeeded in acquiring at least its outward expression. 
He gave up his dogmatic manner in conversation and argu¬ 
ment ; and in place of positive assertion, he formed the habit 
of introducing his opinions with modest diffidence. He recog¬ 
nized the truth of Pope’s lines : — 


“ Men must be taught, as if you taught them not, 

And things unknown proposed as things forgot.” 

He accustomed himself to introduce his statements with 
“ I conceive,” “ I apprehend,” “ It appears to me at present,” 
and other similar expressions. “And this mode,” he says, 
“which I at first put on with some violence to natural inclina¬ 
tion, became at length easy, and so habitual to me, that perhaps 


BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 


45 


for the last fifty years no one has ever heard a dogmatical 
expression escape me. And to this habit (after my character 
of integrity) I think it principally owing that I had early so 
much weight with my fellow citizens, when I proposed new in¬ 
stitutions, or alterations in the old ; and so much influence in 
public councils, when I became a member ; for I was but a 
bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my 
choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I generally 
carried my point.” All which is delightfully frank, and takes 
us, as it were, behind the scenes. 

To return to his printing business, he pushed it with great 
shrewdness and energy, and with his usual frankness he lets us 
into what he considers the secret of his success. “ In order to 
secure my credit and character as a tradesman, I took eare not 
only to be in reality industrious and frugal, but to avoid the 
appearances to the contrary. I dressed plain, and was seen at 
no places of idle diversion. I never went out a fishing or shoot¬ 
ing ; a book, indeed, sometimes debauched me from my work, 
but that was seldom, was private, and gave no scandal; and to 
show that I was not above my business, I sometimes brought 
home the paper I purchased at the stores, through the streets 
on a wheelbarrow. Thus being esteemed an industrious, thriv¬ 
ing young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the mer¬ 
chants who imported stationery solicited my custom ; others 
proposed supplying me with books, and I went on prosper¬ 
ously.” 

As opportunity afforded, he judiciously increased his busi¬ 
ness, publishing a newspaper which became the most influential 
in the colonies, and opening a stationer’s shop. He regarded 
his newspaper as a means of benefiting the public ; and besides 
reprinting extracts from the Spectator, he frequently contributed 
little essays of his own. Among these he mentions “ a So- 
cratic dialogue, tending to prove that, whatever might be his 
parts and abilities, a vicious man could not properly be called 
a man of sense.” 

In 1732 he began the publication of an Almanac under the 


4 6 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


name of Richard Saunders; it was continued about twenty-five 
years, and was commonly called “ Poor Richard’s Almanac.” 
It had an annual sale of about ten thousand copies, and proved 
quite a profitable undertaking. Considering it a useful means 
of conveying instruction to the common people, he filled every 
available corner “with proverbial sentences, chiefly such as 
inculcated industry and frugality as the means of procuring 
wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being more difficult for 
a man in want to act always honestly, as, to use here one of 
those proverbs, it is hard for an empty sack to stand upright 
These proverbs, very few of which were original, represent 
the practical wisdom of many nations and ages. In 1758 he 
brought the principal ones together in the form of a connected 
discourse, which is supposed to be delivered by a wise old man 
to the crowd attending an auction. “ The piece,” to give 
Franklin’s account of it, “being universally approved, was 
copied in all the newspapers of the American continent, re¬ 
printed in Britain on a large sheet of paper, to be stuck up in 
houses; two translations were made of it in France, and great 
numbers bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis 
among their poor parishioners and tenants. In Pennsylvania, 
as it discouraged useless expense in foreign superfluities, some 
thought it had its share of influence in producing that growing 
plenty of money, which was observable for several years after 
its publication.” 

By this time Franklin had become a prominent person in 
the community; and his business success having put him in 
easier circumstances, he was able to turn his attention more 
fully to public affairs. In 1736 he wa!s chosen clerk of the 
General Assembly, and the following year he was appointed 
postmaster at Philadelphia. As a public-spirited citizen he 
sought to improve the condition of the city, and to this end he 
organized a regular police force, supported by taxation, and 
a voluntary fire company. When the Quaker Assembly refused 
to pass a militia law during the war of the Spanish Succession, 
he strongly set forth the defenceless condition of the province, 


BENJAMIN- FRANKLIN. 


47 


and proposed the organization of a voluntary body of troops. 
The success of- the enterprise was astonishing. At a public 
meeting in Philadelphia, the enrolment numbered more than 
five hundred in a single evening; and including the enlistment 
in the country, the number of volunteers at length reached 
ten thousand men, who formed themselves into companies 
and regiments, chose officers, and provided themselves with 
arms. 

Labors and honors were now heaped upon him. He was 
appointed postmaster-general for America. Both Harvard and 
Yale honored him with the master’s degree. He was the chief 
promoter in establishing an academy which afterwards became 
the University of Pennsylvania. In his educational views he 
was progressive beyond his time. He deserves a place among 
educational reformers. While building up his business, he had 
also gained a reading knowledge of French, Italian, and Span¬ 
ish. From these he passed to Latin, for which he found the 
“preceding languages had greatly smoothed the way.” Thus 
he was led by experience to recognize the truth of the maxim of 
Comenius, that “ the nearer should precede the more remote.” 
Hence he argued, as the philosopher Locke had done before 
him, that ancient languages should be approached through the 
study of the modern languages. 

In 1754 he was appointed a delegate to the Albany conven¬ 
tion to consult with the Six Nations in regard to the common 
defence of the country against the French. It was then that 
he proposed “ a plan for the union of all the colonies under one 
government, so far as might be necessary for defence and other 
important general purposes.” It always remained his opinion 
that the adoption of this plan of union would have averted or 
certainly delayed the conflict with the mother country. “ The 
colonies so united,” he wrote in his old age, “would have been 
sufficiently strong to have defended themselves ; there would 
then have been no need of troops from England; of course 
the subsequent pretext for taxing America, and the bloody 
contest it occasioned, would have been avoided. But such 


50 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


The two or three last years of his life were a fitting close 
to his extraordinary career. Though suffering at times much 
physical pain, he lived in comfortable retirement, in the midst 
of his grandchildren and the company of friends. He retained 
his faculties to the last; and that genial humor, which char¬ 
acterized his life, never deserted him. His manners were easy 
and obliging; and his large benevolence diffused about him 
an atmosphere of unrestrained freedom and satisfaction. He 
looked forward to his approaching end with philosophic com¬ 
posure. “Death I shall submit to,” he said, “with the less 
regret as, having seen during a long life a good deal of this 
world, I feel a growing curiosity to be acquainted with some 
other; and can cheerfully, with filial confidence, resign my 
spirit to the conduct of that great and good Parent of mankind 
who has so graciously protected and prospered me from my 
birth to the present hour.” The end came the 17th of April, 
1790, at the age of eighty-four years; and his body, followed 
by an immense throng of people, was laid to rest by that of 
his wife in the yard of Christ Church. 



JONATHAN EDWARDS. 









JONATHAN EDWARDS. 


51 


JONATHAN ED WANTS. 

In considering a man’s life, we should take into considera¬ 
tion its historic environment. We should judge it, not by the 
standards of our day, but by the ^standards then prevailing. 
Only for moral obliquity must there be small allowance; for 
whatever may be the laxity of the times, every man has in his 
breast a monitor against vice. 

If we study Jonathan Edwards with proper sympathy, we 
must pronounce his life a great life. Though his character 
was colored by Puritan austerity, and his religious experience 
involved what many believe to have been morbid emotions, 
there is no questioning the fact of his masterful intellect and 
his stainless integrity. He certainly was not, what a ferocious 
critic has styled him, a theological “ monomaniac . 99 There 
is much less reason to dissent from the judgment of another 
reviewer who says of him: “ Remarkable for the beauty of 
his face and person, lordly in the easy sweep and grasp of 
his intellect, wonderful in his purity of soul and in his sim¬ 
ple devotion to the truth, the world has seldom seen in finer 
combination all the great qualities of a godlike manhood.” 1 

Jonathan Edwards, who was born at East Windsor, Conn., 
Oct. 5, 1703, was of excellent Puritan stock. His father, the 
Rev. Timothy Edwards, was for sixty-four years the honored 
pastor of the Congregational church of East Windsor; and his 
mother was the daughter of the Rev. Solomon Stoddard, who 
was pastor at Northampton, Mass., for more than fifty years, 
and one of the most eminent ministers of his day. From his 
mother, who was a woman of superior ability and excellent ed¬ 
ucation, he inherited not only his delicate features and gentle 

1 Bibliotheca Sacra, xxvi., 255. 


52 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


disposition, but also a large measure of his intellectual force. 
His father, who was distinguished as a Latin, Greek, and He¬ 
brew scholar, was accustomed for many years, in addition to 
his regular ministerial duties, to prepare young men for col¬ 
lege. With no mediaeval prejudice against the higher educa¬ 
tion of woman, he instructed his daughters (there were no fewer 
than ten of them) in the same studies pursued by the young 
men. It was in this cultivated and studious home, under the 
refining influence and instruction of his older sisters, that 
young Edwards received His preparatory training. 

In his childhood he exhibited extraordinary precocity. He 
was not, as sometimes happens, so absorbed in his books as 
to lose taste for the observation of nature. For an English 
correspondent of his father’s, he wrote at the age of twelve 
years an elaborate paper upon spiders, which shows remarkable 
powers of observation. It is said actually to have enlarged 
the boundaries of scientific knowledge. Had the young author 
given himself to natural science, there can be no doubt that 
he would have stood in the foremost rank. 

In 1716, when in his thirteenth year, young Edwards en¬ 
tered Yale College. It was the day of small things with the 
institution; and the president residing at a distance of forty 
miles, the government and discipline were chiefly in the hands 
of tutors. The result was, as might be expected, a good deal of 
idleness and disorder among the students. But such was young 
Edwards’s thirst for knowledge that he not only refrained from 
the insubordination of his fellow-students, but by his scholar¬ 
ship and integrity retained their respect and Confidence. 

At the age of fourteen he read Locke’s “/Essay on the Hu¬ 
man Understanding; ” and though it can hardly be classed as 
juvenile literature, he declared that in the perusal of it he en¬ 
joyed a far higher pleasure “than the most greedy miser finds, 
when gathering up handfuls of silver and gold from some newly 
discovered treasure.” While proficient m every department of 
study, he excelled especially in mental science. He had been 
trained by his father to make much use/of the pen in studying; 


JONATHAN EDWARDS . 


53 


and while still an undergraduate, he began to put into clear 
shape his ideas about the leading terms of mental philosophy, 
such as cause, existence, space, time, substance, matter, and 
so on. His notebook of this period shows surprising depth of 
thought and lucidity of expression. At graduation he stood 
head and shoulders above his class. 

Religion, which became the dominant interest of his subse¬ 
quent life, engaged his attention toward the end of his college 
course. He passed through the deep spiritual conflicts that so 
often, especially under the Puritan type of faith, are associated 
with profoundly earnest natures. But at last his spiritual 
struggles issued in a sweet “sense of the glorious majesty and 
grace of God ”—a feeling that added a strange charm to ex¬ 
ternal nature. “The appearance of every thing,” he says, “was 
altered. There seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast, 
or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing.” 

After graduating, he spent nearly two years at the college 
in theological study. At the age of nineteen he was licensed 
to preach the gospel, and sent to New York to minister to 
a small congregation of Presbyterians. Though he filled the 
pulpit with great acceptance, the relation did not become per¬ 
manent, and in 1723 he was elected tutor in Yale College. At 
this time the office of tutor was a trying position, and it is a 
significant fact that a year later he wrote: “ I have now abun¬ 
dant reason to be convinced of the troublesomeness and vex¬ 
ation of the world, and that it never will be another kind of a 
world.” But such was his skill in discipline and success in 
instruction, that President Stiles spoke of him and his associ¬ 
ates as “the pillar tutors, and the glory of the college at this 
critical period.” 

In his twentieth year, and just before entering upon his 
tutorship, he drew up seventy resolutions for the government 
of his heart and life. Though they are tinged with a Puritan 
austerity, and unduly accentuate, perhaps, the religious ele¬ 
ment of life, they reveal an extraordinary depth and earnest¬ 
ness of character. 


54 


A ME RICA AT LITERATURE. 


In 1726 Jonathan Edwards was called as pastor to North¬ 
ampton, where the next twenty-four years of his life were passed. 
The following year he was married to Miss Pierrepont of New 
Haven, a lady who added to unusual intellectual gifts and at¬ 
tainments an executive ability and considerate sympathy that 
fitted her in an eminent degree to be the helpmate of her hus¬ 
band. She relieved him entirely of domestic cares. There is 
a tradition that he did not know his own cows. Though his 
constant inattention to the concerns of his household hardly 
rendered him a model husband, he gave himself with all the 
more devotion to his sermons and theological studies. He 
regularly spent thirteen hours a day in his study; and when 
out for recreation, which was usually on horseback, he carried 
pen and paper with him to note down such valuable thoughts 
as might occur to him. In order to keep up the necessary 
physical strength for his great intellectual labors, he was care¬ 
ful to take regular exercise, and observed the strictest temper¬ 
ance in eating and drinking. He was exceedingly thorough in 
his methods of study. He could never be satisfied with hasty 
or superficial work; and as we read his sermons and numerous 
volumes, his clearness of view, his power of analysis, and his 
irresistible cogency of reasoning, afford continual astonishment 
and pleasure. 

Among the many able preachers of America, he stands as 
one of the greatest. He dwelt habitually on the weightiest 
doctrines of the Christian faith; and in his treatment of them 
there is a Miltonic grasp of thought and vigor of language. 
He v'as not eloquent in manner or expression; his voice was 
weak, and he kept his eyes closely fixed on his manuscript; 
but such was his overpowering spiritual earnestness that his 
sermons were sometimes startling in their effect. When he 
preached his famous sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an 
Angry God,” the feelings of his audience deepened into an 
insupportable agony; and at last the cry burst forth, “What 
must we do to be saved? ” In those days people did not go to 
church to be entertained; and with an endurance that seems 


JONATHAN EDWARDS. 


55 


almost incredible now, they listened, with unflagging attention, 
to closely reasoned sermons two hours long. It was for audi¬ 
ences of this kind that the sermons of Edwards were prepared; 
and to such persons as take them up with sufficient determina¬ 
tion, and are able to appreciate their powerful reasoning, they 
appear veritable masterpieces. 

Under his preaching in 1735 there began at Northampton a 
new interest in religion, which afterwards extending throughout 
the American colonies has been known as the “ Great Awak¬ 
ening.” The celebrated Whitefield contributed much to this 
revival. Though attended at times with great excitement and 
extravagance, this movement upon the whole seems to have 
been helpful to morality and piety. It was in this connection 
that Edwards wrote “ Some Thoughts concerning the Present 
Revival of Religion in New England” — a work of such spir¬ 
itual discernment, practical wisdom, and conservative judg¬ 
ment, that it has since been regarded as an authority on the 
subject. He was not friendly to the fanatical tendencies some¬ 
times exhibited during the “Great Awakening; ” and in order 
to distinguish between the true and the false evidences of a 
Christian life, he wrote his “Treatise concerning the Religious 
Affections.” Though defective in style, as indeed are all his 
works, it occupies a very high rank as a treatise on practical 
religion. 

For nearly twenty years Jonathan Edwards had a firm hold 
upon the affections of his people. Then there came a reac¬ 
tion, which finally resulted in his being ejected from his pasto¬ 
ral charge. Contrary to the prevailing custom at Northampton 
and in other parts of New England, he maintained that only 
consistent Christians should be admitted to the Lord’s Sup¬ 
per. A bitter controversy followed. Though contending with 
heroic courage for what he believed to be right, he constantly 
exhibited the beauty of a meek and forgiving spirit. He was 
finally forced to resign in 1750. 

In 1751 he was called to Stockbridge, forty miles west of 
Northampton, to serve as pastor to a congregation there, and 


5 « 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


at the same time to act as missionary to a tribe of Indians 
in the vicinity. The congregation was small, and the work 
among the Indians unpromising. It was a field that especially 
required persistent personal work. Confirmed, as he was, in 
retiring and studious habits, it is not strange that, in spite of 
his faithful preaching, he was unsuccessful as a missionary. 
But among the unfavorable surroundings of a frontier settle¬ 
ment, he continued his literary labors, and composed his ablest 
works. 

In 1754 appeared his famous treatise entitled “ Inquiry into 
the Freedom of the Will.” It is his greatest work, the argu¬ 
ment of which he had been slowly elaborating for years. It 
placed him at once, not only at the head of American writers, 
but among the world’s profoundest thinkers. “On the arena 
of metaphysics,” says the great Dr. Chalmers, “he stood the 
highest of all his contemporaries, and that, too, at a time when 
Hume was aiming his deadliest thrusts at the foundations of 
morality, and had thrown over the infidel cause the whole eclat 
of his reputation.” According to the judgment of Sir James 
Mackintosh, “In the power of subtile argument, he was, per¬ 
haps, unmatched, certainly unsurpassed among men.” Among 
his other works published while he was at Stockbridge are “A 
Dissertation on the Nature of True Virtue,” and a treatise on 
“Original Sin.” 

In 1758 he was called to the presidency of the College of 
New Jersey, a position which he accepted with hesitancy and 
misgivings. He questioned his natural aptitude for the office, 
and hesitated to assume duties that would interfere with the 
studious habits of his life. In a letter to the trustees, in which 
he speaks with great frankness, he furnishes some interesting 
facts about his manner of life. “My method of study,” he 
says, “from my first beginning the work of the ministry, has 
been very much by writing ; applying myself, in this way, to 
improve every important hint; pursuing the clue to my utmost, 
when any thing in reading, meditation, or conversation, has 
been suggested to my mind, that seemed to promise light in 


JONATHAN EDWARDS . 


57 


any weighty point; thus penning what appeared to me my best 
thoughts, on innumerable subjects, for my own benefit.” In 
the same letter he speaks of a great work that he had on his 
“mind and heart namely, his “History of the Work of Re¬ 
demption.” 

The plan, as he outlines it, reminds us of Milton and 
Dante. “This history,” he says, “will be carried on with 
regard to all three, worlds, heaven, earth, and hell; consider¬ 
ing the connected, successive events and alterations in each, 
so far as the Scriptures give any light; introducing all parts of 
divinity in that order which is most Scriptural and most natu¬ 
ral, a method which appears to me the most beautiful and en¬ 
tertaining, wherein every divine doctrine will appear to the 
greatest advantage, in the brightest light, and in the most 
striking manner, showing the admirable contexture and har¬ 
mony of the whole.” This work, so grandly outlined, was left 
unfinished at his death; but the manuscript sermons, which 
formed the basis of it, were reduced to the form of a treatise 
by his friend Dr. Erskine of Edinburgh, and the work, which 
has had a wide circulation, first appeared in that city in 1777. 

He was inaugurated as president of the College of New 
Jersey in 1758, but performed the duties of his office less than 
five weeks. The smallpox having made its appearance in 
Princeton, he deemed it advisable to be inoculated. At that 
time inoculation was regarded as a more serious thing than at 
present. The trustees were consulted, and gave their consent. 
A skilful physician was engaged to come from Philadelphia to 
perform the operation; but in spite of all precautions, the in¬ 
oculation terminated fatally. He died March 22, 1758, in the 
fifty-fifth year of his age. In his last hours he retained the 
beautiful faith and resignation that had characterized his 
active life. Shortly before he expired, some friends, not 
thinking that he heard them, were lamenting the loss that his 
death would bring to the college and the church. Interrupting 
them he said, “Trust in God, and ye need not fear.” These 
were his last words. 


58 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


“ Other men have, do doubt, excelled him in particular 
qualities or accomplishments. There have been far more 
learned men; far more eloquent men; far more enterprising 
and active men, in the out-door work of the sacred office. But, 
in the assemblage and happy union of those high qualities, 
intellectual and moral, which constitute finished excellence, 
as a man, a Christian, a divine, and a philosopher, he was, un¬ 
doubtedly, one of the greatest and best men that have adorned 
this, or any other country, since the Apostolic age .”* 1 


1 Miller, Life of Jonathan Edwards, p. 213. 


REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 


REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS. 

THOMAS JEFFERSON. ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 

OTHER WRITERS 

Charles Brockden Brown (1771-1810). Was the first American nov¬ 
elist. He wrote “ Wieland,” “ Ormond,” and “ Arthur Mervyn.” He 
was the first of our authors to make a living out of literature. 

John Trumbull (1750-1831). Wrote “ McFingal,” a satire upon the 
Tories in the manner of Butler’s “ Hudibras.” 

Joel Barlow (1754-1812). Wrote the “ Columbiad,” a very dull epic. 
His “ Hasty Pudding ” is still readable. 

Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791). Wrote the most popular ballad of the 
Revolution, entitled the “ Battle of the Kegs.” 

Philip Freneau (1752-1832). Poet, editor, and political w T riter. His two 
best poems are “ Lines to a Wild Honeysuckle ” and “ The Indian 
Burying-Ground.” 

Timothy Dwight (1752-1817). President of Yale College from 1795 to 
the time of his death. A theologian whose works are still instructive. 
He wTote the hymn “ I love thy Kingdom, Lord,” and the patriotic 
song, “ Columbia, Columbia, to Glory Arise.” 

Joseph Hopkinson (1770-1842). Wrote “Hail Columbia.” 

Thomas Paine (1737-1809). Author of “Common Sense,” a patriotic 
pamphlet, “ The Rights of Man,” a defence of the French Revolution, 
and “ The Age of Reason,” a coarse attack upon Christianity. 

James Madison (1751-1836) and John Adams (1735-1826) were great 
statesmen and able political writers. The former was one of the 
writers of the “ Federalist,” and the latter wrote an elaborate “ Defence 
of the Constitutions of Government of the United States.” 

John Marshall (1755-1835). Statesman and Chief-Justice of the United 
States. He wrote a standard “ Life of Washington.” 

William Wirt (1772-1834). Lawyer and politician. He wrote “ Letters 
of a British Spy,” and a “ Life of Patrick Henry.” 

' 59 





III. 


THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD . 

(1763-1815.) 

The Revolutionary Period embraces about fifty years, 
and includes two events of great importance. The first 
of these is the War of Independence ; the other, the adop¬ 
tion of the Constitution. Around these two events gathers 
nearly all the literature of the time. This literature can 
be understood only as we comprehend the spirit and prin¬ 
ciples of the founders of our republic. No other period 
better illustrates the relation of literature to prevailing so¬ 
cial conditions. For half a century the struggle against 
British injustice and oppression, and the establishment of 
a great national government, absorbed a large part of the 
intellectual energies of the people. Great practical ques¬ 
tions were pressing for solution. It was the age of politi¬ 
cal pamphlets and popular oratory. The literature of the 
time arose, not to enrich the treasures of artistic expression, 
but to mould and move popular thought and action. 

The leaders of the revolutionary movement were heroes. 
We cannot peruse their determined and often eloquent 
words without being moved with admiration. There is 
an ardor in them that kindles anew the spirit of freedom. 
The deliberate and resolute courage of the Revolutionary 
patriots has never been surpassed. True to the spirit of 
their forefathers, who had sought refuge from oppression 

61 


62 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


in the wilds of a new continent, they were bravely jealous 
of their liberties. With Anglo-Saxon fidelity they were 
loyal to England until repeated and inexcusable acts of 
tyranny drove them into resistance. It was only when 
the hope of receiving justice from the mother country had 
completely died out, that the desire and purpose of inde¬ 
pendence arose. 

The general cause of the Revolution was the stupid 
and tyrannical claim of the British government “to bind 
the colonies in all things whatsoever.” The fatal course 
of George III. and of his ministers may be best explained 
as a madness sent from heaven, like the hardening of 
Pharaoh’s heart, to prepare the way for the coming of a 
great nation. For many years the British king, supported 
by Parliament, had pursued a policy of usurpation and tyr¬ 
anny. The list of grievances in the Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence, where each statement points to a particular 
fact, makes up a terrific indictment. Jefferson was only 
faithful to facts when he declared, “ The history of the 
present king of Great Britain is a history of unremitting 
injuries and usurpations, among which appears no solitary 
fact to contradict the uniform tenor of the rest, but all 
have in direct object the establishment of an absolute 
tyranny over these states.” The petitions and remon¬ 
strances of the colonists remained unnoticed. The king- 
demanded absolute and abject submission. 

But it was impossible that the people of America 
should become a race of slaves. Liberty was a part of 
their inheritance as Englishmen. They cherished the 
memory of Magna Charta and the Bill of Rights of 1689. 
The tragic fate of Charles I., brought to the block for his 
tyranny, was not forgotten. The hardships and dangers 


THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 63 

connected with the subjugation of an untamed continent 
had served to develop their native strength, courage, and 
independence. They were the last people in the world 
tamely to submit to oppression and wrong. They main¬ 
tained that, by nature as well as by common law, the 
right of taxation rests with the people. To take their 
property by taxation without their consent was justly held 
to be tyranny. When, in violation of this fundamental 
principle of civil liberty, the British government persisted 
in the claim to tax the colonies at pleasure, the inevitable 
result was united and resolute resistance. 

The necessities of the times produced a generation of 
political thinkers and writers. The Continental Congress 
of 1774, which included among its members Washington, 
Jefferson, Franklin, and Adams, was one of extraordinary 
ability. No abler legislative body ever came together. 
The leaders of popular thought were forced to reflect upon 
the fundamental principles of government. The result 
was a clearness of vision in relation to human rights that 
is almost without parallel. The discussions and state 
papers of the time have extorted praise from the ablest 
European statesmen. Many of the speeches of the time 
possess an eloquence that compares favorably with the 
highest oratory of either ancient or modern times. While 
the belles-lettres literature of the Revolutionary Period is 
insignificant in both quantity and quality, no more inter¬ 
esting or important body of political literature was ^ever 
brought together in the same space of time. It is neces¬ 
sary to mention only the Declaration of Independence, the 
Constitution, and “The Federalist.” 

In the beginning of the revolutionary movement, the 
people of America did not aim at independence. They 


64 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


were loyal to England. At first their object was simply 
to correct the injustice done them by the British govern¬ 
ment. Their petitions were accompanied with sincere pro¬ 
fessions of loyalty to the British crown. But the spirit 
of independence imperceptibly gained in strength. At 
last, as the conflict deepened, separation from Great Brit¬ 
ain became inevitable. Submission and reconciliation were 
no longer possible. On the 4th of July, 1776, the rep¬ 
resentatives of the colonies, in Congress assembled, issued 
their sublime Declaration of Independence, and America 
entered upon its career of grandeur and freedom. 

The Americans based the justice of their cause on two 
grounds : first, their rights as Englishmen ; and second, 
their natural rights as men. Since the days of the Great 
Charter, the king had been denied the right of imposing 
taxes at pleasure. The attempt to do so was an act of 
tyranny that had already cost one king his head. The 
colonies maintained that they were not under the jurisdic¬ 
tion of Parliament. They were not represented in that 
body. The right of taxation rested only with their own 
popular assemblies. The effort of Parliament to impose 
taxes upon them was, therefore, an evident usurpation of 
authority. 

But the American colonists went farther than a de¬ 
fence of their rights under the constitution and common 
law of England. They appealed to their natural rights as 
men. “ Among the natural rights of the colonists,” wrote 
Samuel Adams in 1772, “ are these : First, a right to life; 
secondly, to liberty; thirdly, to property — together with 
the right to support and defend them in the best manner 
they can.” In the Declaration of Independence the same 
appeal is made to fundamental natural principles. 


THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 


65 


The happy issue of the Revolution in 1783 settled 
forever the questions which related to British oppression, 
and which for twenty years had so largely occupied the 
thought of Americans. Then followed an era of discus¬ 
sion in relation to the form and powers of the national 
government. During the Revolution there had been 
no central power. Under the Articles of Confederation 
adopted in 1778, the colonies were organized into a loose 
confederacy. Congress was narrowly restricted in its 
powers, and the ratification of nine States was necessary 
to complete an act of legislation. “ The fundamental de¬ 
fect of the Confederation,” says Jefferson, “was that Con¬ 
gress was not authorized to act immediately on the people, 
and by its own officers. Their power was only requisi- 
tory; and these requisitions were addressed to the several 
legislatures, to be by them carried into execution, with¬ 
out other coercion than the moral principle of duty. This 
allowed, in fact, a negative to every legislature, on every 
measure proposed by Congress ; a negative so frequently 
exercised in practice, as to benumb the action of the Fed¬ 
eral government, and to render it inefficient in its general 
objects, and more especially in pecuniary and foreign con¬ 
cerns.” During the continuance of the Revolution, the 
sense of common danger naturally held the colonies to¬ 
gether. The requisitions of Congress were generally com¬ 
plied with. But after the war, the country fell into great 
disorder and distress, and the inadequacy of the Confede¬ 
ration became generally apparent. 

Accordingly, in 1787, a general convention was held 
in Philadelphia to revise the Articles of Confederation. 
Washington was chosen president. A committee of revis¬ 
ion submitted as its report the first draft of the present 


66 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Constitution of the United States. The discussions, which 
were secret, lasted for several months; and in view of con¬ 
flicting opinions and interests, the convention was several 
times on the point of giving up in despair. The nation 
trembled on the brink of dissolution and ruin. But in 
each instance further deliberation resulted in compromise 
and agreement. When completed, the Constitution did 
not wholly satisfy any one ; it was unanimously accepted, 
however, as the best result attainable under the circum¬ 
stances. It remedied the obvious defects of the Articles 
of Confederation. It established a national government 
with legislative, executive, and judicial departments ; and 
the results thus far have justified the judgment of Glad¬ 
stone, that it is “ the most wonderful work ever struck off 
at a given time by the brain and purpose of man.” 

After the completion of the work of the convention, 
the Constitution came before the people of the several 
•States for ratification or rejection. For the first time the 
American people were divided into two great parties. All 
local differences were swallowed up in the larger issue 
relating to the national government. Those who favored 
the adoption of the Constitution were known as Federal¬ 
ists ; those who opposed it were called Anti-Federalists. 
Political feeling ran high. The question of ratification 
was discussed in the newspaper and debated in the public 
assembly. Party opinion was sometimes emphasized by 
mob violence. In New York the leader of the Anti-Fed¬ 
eralists was Governor Clinton. The leader on the oppo¬ 
site side was Hamilton, who, in co-operation with Madison 
and Jay, largely influenced popular sentiment by the series 
of powerful essays known collectively as “The Federalist.” 
In Virginia, Patrick Henry used all his influence and elo- 


THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD . 


6 ; 


quence to prevent the adoption of the Constitution ; but 
he was successfully opposed by Edmund Randolph, gov¬ 
ernor' of the State. 

The general ground of opposition lay, first, in dislike 
of a strong national government; and secondly, in the 
absence of sufficient guarantees (since supplied by amend¬ 
ments) to secure the liberties of the people. The reasons 
in favor of adoption are succinctly stated in the preamble 
of the Constitution itself : namely, “to form a more per¬ 
fect union, establish justice, ensure domestic tranquillity, 
provide for the common defence, promote the general wel¬ 
fare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and 
our posterity.” 

In spite of the strong feeling against the Constitution, 
it was ratified by eleven States before the end of 1788. 
The following year the new government was inaugurated, 
with Washington as the unanimous choice of the people 
for president. There remained, however, many perplex¬ 
ing questions to be settled. The financial policy of the 
government; the relations of the United States with 
foreign powers ; the acquisition of new territory — these 
were some of the questions that engaged the attention 
of thoughtful minds. In 1812 it again became necessary 
to meet British insolence and aggression by force. The 
ground of hostilities was compressed into the rallying cry 
of “Free trade and sailors’ rights.” In a conflict lasting 
more than two years, England was again defeated. With 
the happy solution of all these problems, and the rapid 
development in population and wealth, the United States 
at last assumed an honorable place among the great family 
of nations. 

Such were the prevailing influences controlling litera- 


68 


A MEXICAN LI TEX A TURK. 


ture during the Revolutionary Period. It would be a mis¬ 
take, however, to suppose that the entire literary activity 
of the country was confined to popular oratory, political 
pamphlets, and official documents. Theology was not en¬ 
tirely neglected; and Timothy Dwight’s “Theology Ex¬ 
plained and Defended,” in a series of sermons, was a 
standard in its day, and may still be studied with profit. 
The mighty influences at work naturally sought an auxil¬ 
iary in poetry. Accordingly, we find a large number of 
satires, more or less extended, many popular ballads, 
mostly crude in composition, and at least one pretentious 
epic, so stately and tedious that it is never read. Here 
and there we find a poem or other literary production 
independent of the political controversies of the time. 
Such is Philip Freneau’s “The Wild Honeysuckle:” — 

“ Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, 

Hid in this silent, dull retreat, 

Untouched thy honey’d blossoms blow, 

U nseen thy little branches greet; 

No roving foot shall find thee here, 

No busy hand provoke a tear.” 

Here should be mentioned also the works of Charles 
Brockden Brown, who has the credit of first introducing 
fiction into American literature. 

The principal satire of the period is John Trumbull’s 
“ McFingal,” which was undertaken, as he tells us, “ with 
a political view, at the instigation of some leading mem¬ 
bers of the first Congress,” and was published in part in 
Philadelphia in 1775. It is written in imitation of But¬ 
ler’s “ Hudibras,” and does not suffer in comparison with 
that famous satire upon the Puritans of England. Some 


THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 69 

of its lines are easily mistaken for Butler’s, and have been 
so quoted ; for example : — 

“ A thief ne’er felt the halter draw 
With good opinion of the law.” 

Or this, — 

“ For any man with half an eye 
What stands before him may espy; 

But optics sharp it needs, I ween, 

To see what is not to be seen.” 

Trumbull does not always spare his countrymen. In 
the following lines there is a very good hit at slavery. 
After describing the erection of a liberty-pole, he con¬ 
tinues : — 

“ And on its top, the flag unfurled 
Waved triumph o’er the gazing world, 

Inscribed with inconsistent types 
Of liberty and thirteen stripes.” 


The hero McFingal is a Tory squire, who in resisting 
the Whigs comes to grief, and suffers the peculiar revolu¬ 
tionary punishment of tar and feathers. 

“'Yankee Doodle” belongs to this period. The tune 
is an old one; and the hero himself, who had previously 
figured in Holland and England, may be regarded as 
American only by adoption. The song was first used in 
derision of the motley troops of the colonies ; but like 
many another term of reproach, Yankee Doodle was taken 
up by the American soldiery, and made a designation of 
honor. The first complete set of words appears to date 
from 1775, and is entitled “The Yankee’s Return from 
Camp.” 

“ Father and I went down to camp 
Along with Captain Gooding; 

And there we see the men and boys 
As thick as hasty-pudding.” 


/o 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


In 1807 “The Columbiad,” an epic poem in ten books, 
by Joel Barlow, made its appearance in a sumptuous edi¬ 
tion. It is our first epic poem, and this fact constitutes 
its principal claim upon our attention. The plan of the 
work is very simple. While Columbus is lying in prison, 
the victim of his country’s ingratitude, Hesper appears, 
and conducts him to the “ hill of vision ” commanding the 
western continent. Here the celestial visitant unfolds to 
the great discoverer the history of America, including the 
conquest of Mexico by Cortez, the establishment of the 
English colonies, the French and Indian War, and the Rev¬ 
olution. Last of all, “the progress and influences of mod¬ 
ern art and science are pointed out, the advantages of 
the federal government, and of a larger confederation of 
nations, with an assimilation and unity of language; an 
abandonment of war, and a final blaze of rockets over the 
emancipation of the world from prejudice, and a general 
millennium of philosophic joy and freedom.” 





THOMAS JEFFERSON. 




THOMAS JEFFERSON. 


7 


THOMAS JEFFERSON. 

Do great epochs make great men, or do great men make 
great epochs ? This question has often been discussed; and 
the consideration of every important era is likely to start it 
afresh. Neither question is true to the exclusion of the other. 
Great epochs and great men go together, each exerting an in¬ 
fluence upon the other. In a nation, as in an individual, 
there is usually a large amount of ability unutilized. Under 
ordinary conditions it lies latent. When there comes that 
conflict of ideas, and often of physical force, which marks a 
new stage in human progress, the latent energies of the people 
are roused to action: great men rise to meet the responsibili¬ 
ties and to seize the opportunities presented to them. They 
often succeed in directing or controlling the new movement, 
and out of chaos they bring forth order and beauty. 

Among the great men developed and brought into promi¬ 
nence by the conflict with Great Britain, a very high place 
must be assigned to Thomas Jefferson. After Washington, 
whom a grateful country has invested with an almost ideal 
beauty, he must be ranked with Adams, Franklin, and Hamil¬ 
ton, as one of the founders of our republic. Among the many 
distinguished sons whom Virginia has given to America, Jef¬ 
ferson stands very close after “the father of his country.” 
His labors in the Legislature of Virginia, in the Continental 
Congress, and afterwards in the president’s chair, displayed 
the wisdom and the patriotism of a great statesman. 

Thomas Jefferson was born in Albemarle County, April 2, 
1743. His father, who was of Welsh descent, was a man of 
no great learning, but of excellent judgment and great physi¬ 
cal strength. His mother, who was a Randolph, belonged to 


72 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


one of the most distinguished Virginia families. The Ran¬ 
dolphs traced their pedigree to noble families in England and 
Scotland — a fact “to which,” says Jefferson in his “Auto¬ 
biography,” “let every one ascribe the faith and merit he 
chooses.” Considering the mental and physical traits of his 
father and mother, we see that Jefferson was fortunate in his 
parentage. 

After an excellent preparatory training, including English, 
French, Latin, and Greek, Jefferson entered William and 
Mary College, which was generally patronized at that time by 
the aristocratic families of Virginia. He was a diligent stu¬ 
dent, often working, as he tells us, fifteen hours a day. He 
united a decided taste for both mathematics and the classics. 
He had little taste for fiction, and it is said that “Don Qui¬ 
xote ” is the only novel he ever keenly relished or read a sec¬ 
ond time. He delighted in poetry, and read Homer, Horace, 
Tasso, Moliere, Shakespeare, Milton, and Pope. For a time 
he was extravagantly fond of Ossian, and “was not ashamed 
to own that he thought this rude bard of the North the great¬ 
est poet that had ever existed.” But many years before his 
death he formed a juster estimate of Macpherson’s forgeries. 
He took no interest in metaphysical studies, and frequently 
expressed “unmitigated contempt for Plato and his writings.” 

While in Williamsburg, at that time the capital of the 
State, Jefferson became a law student under George Wythe, 
one of the ablest and purest lawyers Virginia has produced. 
He won the favor of Governor Fauquier, at whose table he 
was a frequent guest. “With him,” Jefferson writes, “Dr. 
Small and Mr. Wythe, his amici omnium horarum , and myself 
formed a partie quarree, and to the habitual conversations on 
these occasions I owed much instruction.” This intimate fel¬ 
lowship with learned and distinguished men while he was yet 
scarcely out of his teens, indicates the presence of no ordinary 
intellectual and social gifts. 

In 1767, at the age of twenty-four, Jefferson entered upon 
the practice of law. His preparation had been thorough, and 


THOMAS JEFFERSON. 


73 


he was eminently successful from the start. Though he was 
not, like his friend Patrick Henry, an eloquent speaker, he was 
a man of excellent judgment and untiring industry. While ca¬ 
pable of seizing at once upon the strong points of a case, he 
had a genius for details. Nothing can surpass the minuteness 
of his observations, and th.e patience of his methodical clas¬ 
sification. He was rapidly advancing to a prominent place 
among the ablest lawyers of Virginia, when the struggle with 
Great Britain called him to a wider and more important field 
of action. 

In 1769 Jefferson was elected a member of the Virginia 
House of Burgesses for his native county. The aristocratic 
class, to which he belonged by birth and association, was gen¬ 
erally conservative. They were loyal to the English crown and 
to the English church. It speaks forcibly for Jefferson’s pa¬ 
triotism and for his noble independence of character, that he 
threw off his inherited prejudices and sided with the colonies. 
At this meeting of the House of Burgesses resolutions were 
passed boldly declaring that the right of levying taxes in Vir¬ 
ginia belonged to themselves; that they possessed the privi¬ 
lege of petitioning the king for. a redress of grievances; and 
that the transportation to England of persons accused of 
treason in the colonies, in order to be tried there, was uncon¬ 
stitutional and unjust. In advocating these resolutions, Jef¬ 
ferson took a decided and prominent part. 

In 1772 Jefferson married Mrs. Martha Skelton, a young 
widow of great attractions in person, mind, and estate. She 
was of frank, warm-hearted disposition; and Hast, not least, 
she had already proved herself a true daughter of the Old 
Dominion in the department of house-wifery.” She added to 
her husband’s estate, which was already very large, about forty 
thousand acres of land and one hundred and thirty-five slaves. 
Thus they were unembarrassed by those disagreeable domestic 
economies that sometimes interfere with wedded bliss; and 
Monticello became as noted for bounteous hospitality as for 
domestic felicity. 


7 4 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


In 1773 Jefferson was again in the House of Burgesses. 
The gathering storm became more threatening. A resolution, 
ordering the appointment of a committee of correspondence 
with the other colonies, was passed. Jefferson was a leading 
member of this committee, and its duties were promptly and 
ably discharged. The result was of the highest importance. 
Similar committees were appointed in the other colonies; and 
thus a means of communication was opened among them, the 
feeling of common interest was strengthened, and a general 
congress met the following year to consider the great questions 
that were agitating the continent. 

In 1774 the British Parliament, in retaliation for the famous 
“Tea Party,” passed the Boston Port Bill, which aimed to 
deprive that town of its foreign trade. When the news of 
this bill reached Williamsburg, the patriot leaders, Jefferson, 
Henry, the Lees, and others, met as usual for consultation, 
and resolved to take steps to rouse the “people from the 
lethargy into which they had fallen.” A day of fasting and 
prayer was agreed on as the best expedient to accomplish their 
object. Accordingly, a resolution was “cooked up,” to use 
Jefferson’s rather irreverent phrase, “appointing the first day 
of June, on which the Port Bill was to commence, for a day 
of fasting , humiliation, and praye?', to implore Heaven to avert 
from us the evils of civil war, to inspire us with firmness in 
the support of our rights, and to turn the hearts of the king 
and parliament to moderation and justice.” The scheme was 
successfully carried through. The day was fittingly observed; 
and the effect throughout the colony was like an electric 
shock, arousing every man to a sense of the situation. 

Jefferson was prevented by illness from attending the con¬ 
vention which met several months later to elect delegates to 
the first general congress. But he forwarded a paper which he 
proposed as instructions for their guidance. The paper was 
regarded as too strong for formal adoption by the convention; 
but it was ordered to be printed in pamphlet form, under the 
title of “A Summary View of the Rights of British America.” 


THOMAS JEFFERSON. 


75 


It is a production remarkable for its strong statement of the 
natural and constitutional rights of the colonies, and for a 
particular enumeration of the various acts of injustice and 
tyranny on the part of the British government. It supplied 
principles, facts, and phrases for the Declaration of Indepen¬ 
dence two years later. 

In June, 1775, Jefferson took his seat in the Continental 
Congress. He was then thirty-two years old—the youngest 
member but one in that illustrious body. His reputation as 
a writer and patriot had preceded him, and he accordingly met 
with a flattering reception. He now entered upon that larger 
sphere of action that closely identified him for many years 
with his country’s history. On the floor of Congress he spoke 
but little, for he was neither an orator nor a debater. But he 
was so clear in his convictions, and so active in committee 
and in his personal relations with his fellow-members, that he 
exerted a strong influence. “ Prompt, frank, explicit, and de¬ 
cisive” are the terms in which John Adams described him at 
this period. He had been in Congress but five days when he 
was appointed on a committee to prepare a report on “the 
causes of taking up arms against England.” Here, as in the 
Virginia legislature, he showed himself bold, resolute, and 
defiant. 

Events of great importance now followed one another in 
rapid succession. The blood shed at Lexington and Bunker 
Hill had thoroughly roused the American people. Reconcil¬ 
iation was recognized, even by the most conservative, as no 
longer possible. The colonies, throwing off British rule, were 
organizing independent governments. On the 7th of June 
Richard Henry Lee, acting under instructions from the Vir¬ 
ginia convention, offered in Congress a resolution declaring 
that the “United States are, and of a right ought to be, free 
and independent states.” As it seemed impossible to secure 
unanimity of action at that time, a final vote was postponed 
till the first of July. Meanwhile, a committee, consisting of 
Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger 




76 AMERICAN LITERATURE . 

Sherman, and Robert Livingston, was appointed to prepare 
a suitable Declaration of Independence. The preparation of 
this important document was devolved upon Jefferson. Adams 
and Franklin made a few verbal changes. When taken up 
in Congress, it was discussed for two days, and numerous 
changes and omissions were made. Finally, on July 4, 1776, 
it was almost unanimously adopted, and the foundation of a 
great republic was laid. 

A new government had been established in Virginia, and 
Jefferson elected a member of the legislature. Believing that 
he could render important service to his native State, where 
there were “many very vicious points which urgently required 
reformation,” he resigned his seat in Congress. He became 
once more a leading spirit in the legislature of Virginia, and 
carried through several bills which changed in large measure 
the subsequent social condition of the State. Among these 
was a bill abolishing the system of entails, and another estab¬ 
lishing religious freedom, — one of the three great acts of his 
life for which he wished to be remembered. 

It was also in connection with a bill requiring a general 
revision of the laws that Jefferson proposed his educational 
system, providing for the establishment of schools of every 
grade. Had it been carried out, it would have contributed 
immeasurably to the intelligence of the people and the pros¬ 
perity of the State. His plan contemplated, to use his own 
words, “1st. Elementary schools, for all children generally, 
rich and poor. 2d. Colleges for a middle degree of instruc¬ 
tion, calculated for the common purposes of life, and such as 
would be desirable for all who were in easy circumstances. 
And 3d. An ultimate grade for teaching the sciences gen¬ 
erally, and in their highest degree.” The support of these 
schools was to be provided for by general taxation. But inas¬ 
much as the system thus threw on the rich and aristocratic 
classes, who had the law-making power in their hands, a large 
part of the burden of educating the poor, it was never carried 
into effect. 


THOMAS JEFFERSON. 


77 


It is beyond the limits of this sketch to trace at any length 
the subsequent public career of Jefferson. In 1779 he was 
elected governor of Virginia, and discharged the duties of that 
office, at a difficult period, with fidelity and ability. In 1783 
he was again elected a delegate to Congress. The currency of 
the country coming under discussion, Jefferson proposed the 
dollar as our unit of account and payment, and its subdivision 
into dimes, cents, and mills in the decimal ratio —the system, 
it is needless to say, that was adopted. In 1784 he was ap¬ 
pointed to go to France, for the purpose of negotiating, in 
connection with Franklin and Adams, treaties of commerce. 
After a time he was appointed minister to the Court of Ver¬ 
sailles, where his talents, culture, and character reflected credit 
upon his country. 

In 1789 Jefferson received permission to return to this coun¬ 
try. During his absence the Constitution had been adopted, 
and the new government inaugurated, with Washington as 
President. Jefferson accepted a place in the cabinet as Sec¬ 
retary of State. He reached New York, the seat of govern¬ 
ment at that time, in March, 1790. Having left France the 
first year of its Revolution, he was filled with ardor for the 
natural rights of man. He was therefore surprised and grieved 
to find, as he thought, a sentiment prevailing in favor of a con¬ 
solidated or even monarchical form of government. 

This introduces us to a new phase in Jefferson’s life. With 
immovable convictions in favor of democratic principles, he 
opposed with all his might the tendency to consolidate or 
centralize the federal government. He became the recognized 
leader of the party in favor of State rights and a general gov¬ 
ernment of restricted and carefully defined powers. His op¬ 
ponent in the cabinet was Alexander Hamilton, a man of 
extraordinary ability and energy, who for a time exerted great 
influence upon the policy of the government. In spite of 
Washington’s effort to preserve harmony, the irreconcilable 
conflict of principles between the Secretary of State and the 
Secretary of the Treasury degenerated into bitter personal hos- 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


78 

tility. At length, in December, 1793, Jefferson carried out his 
long-cherished purpose of resigning. 

During the next several years, Jefferson lived upon his es¬ 
tate at Monticello, engaged in the agricultural pursuits for which 
he had longed for many years. But he was not to spend the 
rest of his life in retirement. In the election of 1801, which 
was attended with extraordinary excitement and danger to the 
republic, the Federalists, who had controlled the government 
for twelve years, were defeated. Their party was divided, 
and the Alien and Sedition Laws were not sustained by public 
sentiment. Jefferson, the candidate of the Republican or Dem¬ 
ocratic party, was chosen President. In his inaugural address 
he laid down an admirable summary of principles, among 
which were “equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever 
state or persuasion, religious or political; peace, commerce, 
and honest friendship with all nations; entangling alliances 
with none; absolute acquiescence in the decisions of the ma¬ 
jority; and economy in the public expense that labor may be 
lightly burdened.” 

FI is administration, in conformity with the principles he 
had announced, was a brilliant one. He introduced republi¬ 
can simplicity in place of the stately formalities of previous 
administrations. He greatly reduced the public debt; the 
territorial area of the United States was doubled; taxes were 
decreased; a war with France and Spain was honorably 
averted; the Barbary pirates were subdued; and the internal 
prosperity of the country vastly increased. His popularity 
became second only to that of Washington himself. He was 
accordingly re-elected for a second term, throughout which he 
continued, likewise, to administer the affairs of the govern¬ 
ment with great wisdom and broad statesmanship. 

In 1809, after witnessing the inauguration of his succes¬ 
sor, Madison, Jefferson left Washington for Monticello. After 
forty years of political turmoil and strife, he retired finally 
to the seclusion of private life. During this closing period, 
which was burdened by financial embarrassment, he gave much 


THOMAS JEFFERSON. 


79 


time and labor to the founding of the University of Virginia. 
He planned the buildings, designated the departments of in¬ 
struction, and framed the laws for its government. As presi¬ 
dent of the Board, he exerted a controlling influence for a 
number of years. The scheme of government at first proposed, 
which included a co-operative feature, did not come up to his 
expectations. It erred on the side of laxity; and very soon a 
spirit of riot and insubordination among the students brought 
the university to the verge of dissolution. Stricter regulations 
were afterwards adopted, and the university entered upon its 
career of usefulness and honor. 

With advancing years naturally came increased infirmity. 
As the end drew near in the summer of 1826, he earnestly de¬ 
sired to see one more return of the day that commemorated 
the Declaration of Independence. His prayer was heard. He 
passed away on the morning of July 4, fifty years after the 
adoption of his immortal Declaration. A nation mourned his 
death. The voice of partisan prejudice was lost for a time in 
the general homage paid to his life and character. He was 
buried at Monticello, where a modest granite shaft marks his 
resting-place. It bears the inscription composed by himself 
and found among his papers:—• 

HERE LIES BURIED 

THOMAS JEFFERSON, 

AUTHOR OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, 

OF THE STATUTE OF VIRGINIA FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM, 

AND FATHER OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA. 


The general features of his character have been Drought 
out in the course of this sketch. He was a frank and honest 
man; and as he expressed himself freely in his writings, we 
have ample facilities for knowing him well. His intellect 
was capacious, penetrating, and strong. To the refinement 
of a superior literary culture he added rich stores of general 
information. He was singularly independent In thought and 


8 o 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


action — a natural leader among men. He was a prince among 
statesmen. The services he rendered his couhtry are second 
only to those of Washington. His fundamental political faith 
was that all legitimate government is based on the consent of 
the governed. He had faith in humanity, and was opposed 
to aristocratic institutions of every kind. He was the friend 
of popular liberty. His integrity was above reproach. He 
loved a life of simplicity and retirement; and nowhere else 
does he appear more admirable than in the patriarchal dignity 
with which he presided over his large estate and numerous de¬ 
pendents at Monticello. 














ALEXANDER HAMILTON 


8l 


ALEXANDER HAMILTON 

It is not without reason that we inquire after the ances¬ 
try of our great men.' The transmission of personal and na¬ 
tional traits from parents to children is a well-established fact. 
While heredity does not explain every peculiarity in offspring, 
it often furnishes us a key to leading traits. In order to un¬ 
derstand any character thoroughly, it is necessary to know his 
antecedents. All this is illustrated in Alexander Hamilton, 
who was born on the island of Nevis, Jan. n, 1757. “From 
his father, a cool, deliberate, calculating Scotchman, he inher¬ 
ited the shrewdness, the logical habits of thought, which con¬ 
stitute the peculiar glory of the Scottish mind. From his 
mother, a lady of French extraction, and the daughter of a 
Huguenot exile, he inherited the easy manners, the liveliness 
and vivacity, the keen sense of humor, the desire and the abil¬ 
ity to please, which so eminently distinguish the children of 
the Celtic race.” 1 

When yet a mere boy, he was placed in a clerkship, and 
intrusted with the management of important interests. He met 
the responsibilities thrown upon him with extraordinary abil¬ 
ity. But he was not at peace in the drudgery of his position. 
He felt in himself, as many other great men have felt in youth, 
the promise of higher things. In a letter preserved to us from 
this period, he says: “I contemn the grovelling condition of 
a clerk, or the like, to which my fortune condemns me, and 
would willingly risk my life, though not my character, to exalt 
my station. I am confident, Ned, that my youth excludes me 
from any hopes of immediate preferment, nor do I desire it; 
but I mean to prepare the way for futurity.” This ambitious 
1 McMaster, History of the People of the United States. 


82 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


purpose in a boy of thirteen contains the promise of future 
distinction. 

He had a decided bent for literature. Pope and Plutarch 
were at that time his favorite authors. His unusual abilities 
began to attract attention, and finally funds were provided to 
send him to America, where a wider field of opportunity was 
open to him. He reached Boston in October, 1772, and thence 
went to New York. By the advice of judicious friends, he en¬ 
tered a grammar school at Elizabethtown, where he pursued 
his studies with restless energy. His literary instinct found 
vent in both prose and poetry, which possessed noteworthy 
merit. At the end of a year he entered King’s (afterwards 
Columbia) College, where he continued his studies with char¬ 
acteristic vigor. “In the debating club,” it has been said, 
“he was the most effective speaker; in the recitation-room, the 
most thorough scholar ; on the green, the most charming 
friend; in the trial of wit, the keenest satirist.” Those who 
knew “the young West Indian,” as he was called, recognized 
something extraordinary in him, and vaguely speculated about 
his promising future. 

The colonies were now deeply stirred over their relations 
with England. The Revolutionary storm was gathering fast. 
Which side of the conflict was the promising young collegian 
to espouse? His inclinations were at first on the side of Great 
Britain; but it was not long “until he became convinced,” to 
use his own words, “ by the superior force of the arguments in 
favor of the colonial claims.” Perhaps he instinctively felt, 
or with keen penetration discerned, that the eminence to which 
he aspired lay on the colonial side. An occasion was soon 
offered to embark in the patriot cause. A mass-meeting was 
held in July, 1774, to urge New York, which was in possession 
of the Tories, to take its place along with the other colonies 
in resisting British aggression. Hamilton was present; and 
not satisfied with the presentation of the colonial cause in 
the speeches already delivered, he made his way to the stand, 
and after a few moments of embarrassment and hesitation, he 


ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 83 

astonished and captivated the crowd by an extraordinary out¬ 
burst of youthful oratory. 

During the Revolutionary Period public opinion was 
largely influenced by political pamphlets and elaborate dis¬ 
cussions in the newspapers. Hamilton was soon introduced 
into this species of controversy, for which his natural abilities 
fitted him in an eminent degree. In the discussion of politi¬ 
cal and constitutional questions he had no superior. In 1774 
there appeared two ably written tracts that attacked the Conti¬ 
nental Congress, and did the patriot cause considerable harm. 
To counteract their influence, Hamilton wrote two pamphlets 
in reply; and so ably did he vindicate the claims of the colo¬ 
nies, that in spite of his youth he at once took rank as a leader 
among the patriots. 

Once fairly enlisted in the cause of American liberty, 
Hamilton’s fiery nature made him active and aggressive. By 
pen and voice he continued to mould public opinion. But his 
ardor never betrayed him into rashness. His love of order and 
justice restrained him from inconsiderate violence. He even 
risked his life and (what was perhaps more to him) his repu¬ 
tation with the people, in resisting the madness of a mob. 
When the British ship of war Asia opened fire on New York, 
a mob thronged the streets, threatening destruction to every 
Tory. Dr. Cooper, the president of the college, was one of 
the most prominent adherents of the crown; and thither the 
crowd rushed, bent upon mischief. But Hamilton already stood 
on the steps of the building, and arrested the tumultuous 
throng with his vigorous expostulations. 

But Hamilton’s efforts in behalf of the colonies were not 
confined to words. After the battles of Lexington and Bunker 
Hill, it became increasingly evident that a peaceful solution 
of the controversy with Great Britain was no longer possible. 
In preparation for the inevitable appeal to arms, Hamilton 
studied military science, and to gain practical experience 
joined a company of volunteers. In several trying situations 
he displayed unflinching courage. In 1776 the New York 


8 4 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


convention ordered the organization of an artillery company. 
Hamilton made application for the command, and established 
his fitness by a successful examination. He rapidly recruited 
his company, and expended of his own means to equip it. 
By constant drill he brought it to a high degree of efficiency. 
At the battle of Long Island and of White Plains his battery 
rendered effective service. At the end of six months Hamil¬ 
ton had won the reputation of a brave and brilliant officer. 

The ability of Hamilton did not escape the attention of the 
commander-in-chief. Accordingly, in March, 1777, he was 
appointed a member of Washington’s staff, with the rank of 
lieutenant-colonel. During the next four years he was inti¬ 
mately associated with the commanding general, and in vari¬ 
ous capacities rendered him valuable aid. His chief duty, 
however, was the conduct of Washington’s large correspon¬ 
dence. For this work his great natural gifts, as well as his 
previous training, peculiarly fitted him. A large part of the 
letters and proclamations issuing from headquarters at this 
time were the work of Hamilton. No doubt the great com¬ 
mander indicated their substance; but their admirable form 
was due, in part at least, to the skill of his able secretary. 

But Hamilton’s connection with Washington’s staff Came 
to an abrupt and unexpected end in February, 1781. Having 
been sent for by the commander-in-chief, he failed to respond 
promptly to the summons. When he made his appearance, 
after a brief delay, he was sharply reproved by Washington, 
who.charged him with disrespect. The rebuke touched Hamil¬ 
ton’s high-strung nature, and he replied: “I am not conscious 
of it, Sir; but since you have thought it, we part.” Under all 
the circumstances it seems difficult to justify this outburst of 
the youthful aide. But he never liked the office of an aide- 
de-camp; and there is reason to believe that he was irritated 
because he had not been preferred to more important posts 
to which he aspired. Though he rejected Washington’s over¬ 
tures looking to a restoration of their former relations, he con¬ 
tinued to serve in the army with the rank of colonel, and at 


ALEXANDER HAMILTON 85 

Yorktown he led an assault upon a British redoubt with resist¬ 
less impetuosity. 

Hamilton was never popular with the masses. His posi¬ 
tive and aggressive character raised him above the low arts of 
the demagogue. He preferred to guide rather than to flatter 
the people. But he was never without loyal friends. His ex¬ 
traordinary force of character made him a centre of attraction 
for less positive natures. While his natural gifts made him 
a recognized leader, his generous nature inspired a loyal de¬ 
votion. He was popular with his associates in the army; and 
the French officers especially, whose language he spoke with 
native fluency, regarded him with enthusiastic affection. 

Whether under favorable circumstances Hamilton would 
have made a great general must remain a matter of specula¬ 
tion. But war was not the sphere for which his talents were 
best adapted. He was eminently gifted to be a statesman; 
and while in active service in the army, he could not refrain 
from considering the political and financial needs of the coun¬ 
try, and from suggesting a remedy for existing evils. In 1780 
he addressed to Robert Morris, the financier of the Revolution, 
an anonymous letter, which is noted for the penetration with 
which it treats of the financial difficulties of the colonies. 

But Hamilton’s thirst for military and civic glory did not 
prevent him from falling in love. There is no security against 
the shafts of Cupid but flight. On Dec. 14, 1780, he married 
Miss Elizabeth Schuyler, daughter of General Schuyler, and 
a charming and intelligent woman. Apart from the domestic 
happiness it brought him, the marriage allied him to an old, 
wealthy, and influential family. The only fortune Hamilton 
brought his bride was his brilliant talents and growing repu¬ 
tation; but when his father-in-law generously offered him finan¬ 
cial aid, he proudly declined to receive it. Conscious of his 
abilities, he felt able to make his way in the world alone. 
After leaving the army he entered upon the study of law, and 
after a brief course he was admitted to the bar in 1782. His 
strong logical mind and his great force of character fitted him 


86 


AMERICA A? LITER A TURE. 


to achieve distinction in the legal profession. But his coun¬ 
try had need of his services in a different and higher sphere. 

In November, 1782, he took his seat in Congress. That 
body had sadly declined in ability and prestige. It was in¬ 
capable of grappling with the serious problems that presented 
themselves, and the country seemed to be rapidly drifting to 
destruction. No longer held together by a sense of common 
danger, the Confederation was on the point of disintegrating. 
There was no adequate revenue; the debts of the government 
were unprovided for; and the army was about to be disbanded 
without receiving its long arrears of pay. Hamilton made 
strenuous efforts to correct these evils. He advocated the 
levying of a duty on imports; set forth the necessity of main¬ 
taining the public credit and public honor; and urged a just 
and generous treatment of the army that had achieved Ameri¬ 
can independence. But his efforts were in vain. The pusil¬ 
lanimous body could not rise equal to the situation. Local 
interests and jealousies prevailed over broad and patriotic sen¬ 
timents. Hamilton’s career in Congress was not, however, 
without important results. It increased his reputation as a 
patriotic statesman, and also excited that distrust in demo¬ 
cratic institutions that ever afterwards made him an advocate 
of a strongly centralized and, as some claimed, a monarchical 
form of government. 

Hamilton’s greatest service followed the adoption of the 
Constitution by the convention. Though he was not thor¬ 
oughly satisfied with it, he gave it his hearty support as the 
best thing attainable under existing conditions, and as a great 
improvement on the Articles of Confederation. In New York, 
as in the other States, there was a strong sentiment against the 
Constitution. The opposition was thoroughly organized and 
ably led. As a part of the plan to prevent the ratification of 
the Constitution, it was attacked in a series of elaborate and 
well-planned essays. This was a field in which Hamilton was 
well-nigh matchless. He accepted the challenge, and with the 
assistance of Madison and Jay he prepared that powerful series 




ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 


87 


of eighty-five essays forming the “Federalist.” The effect 
was immediate and far-reaching. The “Federalist” did more 
than any other writing to secure the adoption and support of 
the Constitution throughout the country. It is a profound dis¬ 
quisition on the principles of our government, and has since 
been quoted as of the highest authority on constitutional ques¬ 
tions. 

But it is more than a political and controversial treatise. 
Its masterly style raises it to the rank of real literature. Most 
of the controversial writings of the Revolutionary Period have 
been forgotten. Having served their temporary purpose, they 
have been swept into oblivion. But the “Federalist” endures 
as one of the masterpieces of the human reason. Its sustained 
power is wonderful. The argument, clothed in elevated, strong, 
and sometimes eloquent language, moves forward with a mighty 
momentum that sweeps away everything before it. It is hardly 
surpassed in the literature of the world as a model of master¬ 
ful popular reasoning. By this production Hamilton won for 
himself a foremost place in the literature of his time. 

But the “Federalist” was not the only service he rendered 
the Constitution. It was chiefly through his able leadership 
that the New York convention adopted the Constitution. The 
result was one of the most noted triumphs ever achieved in a 
deliberative body. When the convention assembled, the Clin¬ 
tonian or Anti-Federalist party had forty-six out of sixty-five 
votes. “Two-thirds of the convention,” wrote Hamilton, “and 
four-sevenths of the people, are against us.” In spite of the 
great odds against him, he entered into the contest with reso¬ 
lute purpose. The Anti-Federalists employed every artifice 
known to parliamentary tactics to delay and defeat ratification. 
Day after day the battle raged. Hamilton was constantly on 
his feet, defending, explaining, and advocating the Constitu¬ 
tion. His mastery of the subject was complete; and gradu¬ 
ally his cogent and eloquent reasoning overcame partisan 
prejudice. “At length Hamilton arose in the convention, 
and stating that Virginia had ratified the Constitution, and 


88 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


that the Union was thereby an accomplished fact, moved that 
they cease their contentions, and add New York to the new 
empire of Republican States.” The vote was taken, and the 
Constitution adopted. 

The new government was organized early in 1789; and 
upon the establishment of the Treasury Department in Septem¬ 
ber, Hamilton was called by Washington to take charge of it. 
His practical wisdom never shone to better advantage. As 
Secretary of the Treasury, he left his impress upon the institu¬ 
tions of his country. He gave to the Treasury Department 
the organization it has since substantially retained. He was, 
perhaps, the master-spirit in putting the new government into 
practical operation. 

The opposition to Hamilton’s policy, which constantly 
aimed at strengthening the national government, at length took 
form as the Republican or Democratic party. Jefferson natu¬ 
rally became its head. Intensely republican at heart, he had 
come to entertain exaggerated, and even morbid, views con¬ 
cerning what he believed to be the monarchical aims of the 
Federalists. As a patriot and leader, he felt it his duty to 
arrest as far as possible this centralizing tendency. His re¬ 
lations with Hamilton in the cabinet, to use his own phrase, 
suggested the attitude of “two cocks in a pit.” The feud at 
length grew beyond Washington’s power of conciliation, and 
Jefferson finally withdrew from the cabinet. 

It is impossible, within the narrow limits of this sketch, 
to follow Hamilton through all the labors and controversies of 
his political career. He sometimes made mistakes, as in sup¬ 
porting the odious Alien and Sedition Laws; but beyond all 
question he stood among the foremost statesmen of his time. 
By some he is assigned the highest place. “There is not in 
the Constitution of the United States,” says Guizot, “an 
element of order, of force, of duration, which he did not 
powerfully contribute to introduce into it, and to cause to pre¬ 
dominate.” Tallyrand, who Saw Hamilton in New York, said: 
“I consider Napoleon, Fox, and Hamilton the three greatest 


ALEXANDER HAMILTON 


men of our epoch, and without hesitation I award the first 
place to Hamilton.” His official integrity, though, alas! not 
his moral character, was unsullied. The investigation of his 
conduct as Secretary of the Treasury, set on foot by his ene¬ 
mies in Congress, recoiled upon their own heads. 

After serving nearly six years in Washington’s cabinet, he 
retired in 1795 to private life, to gain an adequate support for 
his-family. He resumed the practice of his profession in New 
York. His brilliant abilities and distinguished public services 
immediately brought him an extensive practice. He speedily 
rose to the head of the bar. His legal acumen was profound, 
while his clear thought, copious and forcible language, and pas¬ 
sionate energy of will, gave him great power as an advocate. 

But the end was drawing near. His brilliant career was 
cut short by the requirements of a false and barbarous “ code 
of honor.” Hamilton did not allow his professional labors to 
destroy his interest in public affairs. He continued the leader 
of the Federalist party, not only in his adopted State, but in 
the country at large. In the political contests of New York, 
his principal opponent was Aaron Burr, a brilliant but unprin¬ 
cipled man. Hamilton had twice thwarted Burr’s political 
ambition. When at last he brought about the latter’s defeat 
for the governorship of New York, Burr resolved upon a deadly 
revenge. He sought a quarrel with Hamilton, and then chal¬ 
lenged him. The duel was fought at Weehawken, July 11, 
1804. At the first fire Hamilton fell mortally wounded, dis¬ 
charging his pistol in the air. His death caused an outburst 
of sorrow and indignation that has scarcely been surpassed in 
the history of our country. 

In person Hamilton was considerably under size. But 
there was a force in his personality, a fire in his impassioned 
eye, that made him impressive. He was one of the most ef¬ 
fective speakers of his time. In his social relations he was 
genial, high-spirited, and generous. He was idolized by his 
family. Though he was never popular with the masses, whom 
he distrusted, he had the power of surrounding himself with a 


go 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


band of able and loyal followers. He was a great constructive 
thinker—a leader of leaders. In the judgment of his rival 
Jefferson, he was “of acute understanding, disinterested, hon¬ 
est, and honorable in all private transactions, amiable in so¬ 
ciety, and duly valuing virtue in private life.’’ Chancellor 
Kent pays a tribute to “his profound penetration, his power 
of analysis, the comprehensive grasp and strength of his un¬ 
derstanding, and the firmness, frankness, and integrity of his 
character.” Like all great men, perhaps, Hamilton was con¬ 
scious of his power; and at times it made him self-assertive 
and dictatorial. He relied for success, not upon treacherous 
diplomacy, but upon open methods, and, if need be, upon 
hard fighting. He possessed extraordinary versatility of gen¬ 
ius; and he was at once a brilliant officer, a powerful writer, 
an able lawyer, a great financier, a strong party leader, and a 
wise statesman. 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 


REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS. 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 

EDGAR ALLAN POE. 

RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

OTHER PROMINENT WRITERS. 

William Ellery Channing (1780-1842). Preacher, lecturer, and Uni¬ 
tarian leader. “ Life and Character of Napoleon Bonaparte,” “ Milton,” 
and “ Self-Culture” are his best productions. 

Amos Bronson Alcott (1799-1888). Educator and philosopher. Among 
his works are “ Concord Days,” and “ Table Talk.” 

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862). A recluse and observer of nature. 
Author of “ Walden; or, Life in the Woods,” “ Cape Cod,” “ The 
Maine Woods,” etc. 

Margaret Fuller Ossoli (1810-1850). Editor of the Dial , and author 
of “ Woman in the Nineteenth Century,” and “ Papers on Literature 
and Art.” 

James K. Paulding (1779-1860). Secretary of the Navy under Van 
Buren, and author of “ Diverting History of John Bull and Brother 
Jonathan,” and “ The Dutchman’s Fireside,” a novel. 

Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820). Author of “The Culprit Fay,” a 
poem of considerable merit, and the well-known lyric, “ The American 

9i 



92 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Flag.” A friend of Fitz-Greene Iialleck, with whom he worked for a 
time in literary partnership. 

Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867). Author of a long poem called 
“ Fanny,” and the stirring lyric, “ Marco Bozzaris.” On the death of 
his friend Drake he wrote the beautiful elegy beginning: — 

“ Green be the turf above thee, 

Friend of my better days! 

None knew thee but to love thee, 

Nor named thee but to praise.” 

Samuel Woodworth (1786-1842). Publisher, prose writer, and poet. 
One of the founders of The New York Mirror , long the most popular 
literary journal in this country. Author of an “Account of the War 
with Great Britain,” and a volume of “ Poems, Odes, and Songs,” the 
most popular of which is “ The Old Oaken Bucket.” 

Alexander H. Everett (1791-1847). Diplomatist and prose miter. 
Ambassador at The Hague in 1818, and at Madrid in 1825. For 
several years editor and proprietor of The North American Review. 
His principal works are “ Europe,” “ America,” and “ Critical and 
Miscellaneous Essays.” 

Edward Everett (1794-1865). Editor of The North American Review, 
member of Congress, Governor of Massachusetts, Minister at the 
Court of Saint James, President of Harvard College, and Secretary 
of State. Principal works, “ A Defence of Christianity,” and “ Ora¬ 
tions and Speeches on Various Occasions.” 

William Ware (1797-1852). Unitarian minister, lecturer, editor of the 
Christian Examiner, and historical novelist. Principal works, “ Zeno- 
bia,” originally published in the Knickerbocker Magazine, “Aurelian,” 
describing Rome in the third century, and “Julian, or Scenes in 
Judea,” in which the most striking incidents in the life of Jesus are 
described. 

James Gates Percival (1795-1856). Scientist, scholar, and poet. Pro¬ 
fessor of Chemistry at West Point, and State Geologist of Wisconsin* 
Assisted Noah Webster in revising his large dictionary. Published 
several volumes of poetry, the last and best-known of which is en¬ 
titled “ The Dream of Day and Other Poems.” 

Sarah Josepha Hale (1790-1879). Poet, prose writer, and editor. 
Edited the Ladies’ Magazine in Boston from 1828 to 1837, the first 
periodical in this country devoted exclusively to woman, and after¬ 
wards combined with Godey’s Lady's Book of Philadelphia. Principal 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 


93 


works, “ The Genius of Oblivion and Other Poems,” “ Northwood, a 
Tale,” “ Sketches of American Character,” “ Traits of American Life,” 
and “ Woman’s Record.” 

Catharine Maria Sedgwick ( 1789-1867). Educator and novelist. She 
conducted a school for young ladies for fifty years. Among her novels 
are “A New England Tale,” “Redwood,” reprinted in England, and 
translated into several Continental languages, “ Hope Leslie,” “ Clar¬ 
ence,” and “ The Linwoods.” 

Lydia Huntley Sigourney (1791-1865). Writer of both prose and 
poetry; well described as “ the American Hemans.” Among her 
works are “ Traits of the Aborigines of America,” a poem in five 
cantos, “A Sketch of Connecticut Forty Years Since,” “Poems,” 
“ Letters to Young Ladies,” etc. 

Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880). 'Editor and prose writer. Among 
her numerous writings may be mentioned “ Hobomok, an Indian 
Story,” “ The Rebels,” a tale of the American Revolution, “ History 
of the Condition of Women in All Ages and Nations,” “ Looking 
Toward Sunset,” and “ The Romance of the Republic.” 

George P. Morris (1802-1864). Journalist and poet. In 1823, with 
Samuel Woodworth, he established The New York Mirror. Among 
his works are “ The Deserted Bride, and Other Poems,” “ The Whip- 
poor-will, a Poem,” “American Melodies,” and, in conjunction with 
Willis, “ The Prose and Poetry of Europe and America.” “ Wood¬ 
man, Spare that Tree ” is his most popular piece. 

Nathaniel P. Willis (1806-1867). Editor of The Mirror, and author 
of poems of much excellence on Scriptural themes. 

William Gilmore Simms (1806-1870). One of the best Southern 
novelists, author of “The Yemassee,” “The Partisan,” and “ Beau- 
champe.” 

John Pendleton Kennedy (1795-1870). Secretary of the Navy under 
Fillmore, and author of old-time society novels, among which are 
“ Swallow Barn ” and “ Horse-Shoe Robinson.” 

Richard Henry Wilde (1789-1847). Member of Congress from 
Georgia, author of a “ Life of Tasso,” and the beautiful lyric, “ My 
Life is Like the Summer Rose.” 

Washington Allston (1779-1843). Painter, poet, and prose writer; 
author of the poem “ The Sylphs of the Seasons,” and the art-novel 
“ Monaldi.” His “ Lectures on Art ” appeared after his death. 


94 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE . 


Richard Henry Dana (1787-1879). Poet, editor, and prose writer; 
author of the “ Buccaneer,” and other poems, and for several years 
connected with the North American Review. 

Samuel G. Goodrich (1793-1860). Publisher and author, best known 
as “ Peter Parley.” He wrote a series of books for children, which 
extended through more than a hundred volumes. Among his works 
are “ The Outcast and Other Poems,” “ Fireside Education,” “ Illus¬ 
trated Natural History.” 

William Hickling Prescott (1796-1859). Author of standard histo¬ 
ries on Spanish themes : “ History of Ferdinand and Isabella,” “ Con¬ 
quest of Mexico,” “ Conquest of Peru,” and “ Philip the Second.” 

John Lothrop Motley (1814-1877). Author of an admirable series of 
historical works relating to Holland: “The Rise of the Dutch Re¬ 
public,” “The History of the United Netherlands,” and “Life of 
John of Barneveld.” 

George Bancroft (1800-1891). Author of a standard, comprehensive 
“History of the United'States” down to 1789. 

Richard Hildreth (1807-1865). Lawyer, editor, and author of a com¬ 
prehensive “ History of the United States,” ending with the first presi¬ 
dential term of James Monroe. 

James Gorham Palfrey (1796-1881). Author of an extended “ History 
of New England.” 

Frances Sargent Osgood (1812-1850). Poet and magazine writer. A 
volume of poems, “ A Wreath of Wild Flowers from New England,” 
was much admired in its day. “ Mrs. Osgood,” wrote Poe, “ has a rich 
fancy, — even a rich imagination, — a scrupulous taste, a faultless style, 
and an ear finely attuned to the delicacies of melody.” 

John Godfrey Saxe (1816-1887). Journalist and poet. In rank, next 
to Holmes in humorous poetry. The titles of his successive works 
are “ The Money King and Other Poems,” “ Clever Stories of Many 
Nations,” “ The Masquerade,” “ Fables and Legends of Many Coun¬ 
tries,” « The Proud Miss McBride,” and “ L eisure Day Rhymes.” / 

James T. Fields (1817-1881). Publisher, editor, and author. Edited 
the Atlantic Monthly from 1861 to 1871. Besides several volumes of 
poetry, he wrote “ Yesterdays with Authors,” and “ Underbrush.” 

Walt Whitman (1819-1892). Printer, school-teacher, carpenter, and 
poet. Principal work, “ Leaves of Grass.” By some assigned a very 
high rank; by others scarcely regarded as a poet at all. He is highly 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 95 

appreciated in England, and his pieces have been translated into 
several modern languages. 

Thomas Buchanan Read (1822-1872). Painter and poet. His first 
volume of “Poems” appeared in 1847. Other works are “The 
Female Poets of America,” “The New Pastoral,” “The Wagoner of 
the Alleghanies.” His most popular poem is “ Sheridan’s Ride,” 
though poetically inferior to “ Drifting.” 

Benson J. Lossing (1813-1892). Biographer and historian. Among 
his numerous works are “ Life of Washington,” “ Field-Book of the 
Revolution,” and “ Pictorial History of the United States.” 

Jacob Abbott (1803-1879). A voluminous author of books designed 
for the young. Among his works are the “ Rollo Books” (28 vols.), 
“The Lucy Books” (6 vols.), and “ Harper’s Story-Books” (36 vols.). 

John S. C. Abbott (1805-1877). Brother of Jacob Abbott, and, like 
him, a minister. Author of moral and historical works, the latter 
being characterized by a partisan tone. Noteworthy are “ History of 
Napoleon Bonaparte,” “ Napoleon at Saint Helena,” “ The French 
Revolution of 1789,” etc. 

Bayard Taylor (1825-1878). Traveller, poet, and novelist. Among his 
best works are “ Views Afoot,” “ Byways of Europe,” “ Lars; a Pas¬ 
toral of Norway,” “ Masque of the Gods,” “ Prince Deukalion,” “ Song 
of the Camp,” translation of Goethe’s “ Faust,” “ Story of Kennett,” 
and “ Hannah Thurston.” 

Josiah Gilbert Holland (1819-1881). Poet, novelist, and editor. His 
longest poems are “ Katrina ” and “ Bitter-Sweet; ” his best novels are 
“ Miss Gilbert’s Career,” “ Arthur Bonnicastle,” and “ Th^ Story of 
Sevenoaks;” for a number of years editor of Scribner's Monikly. 

Harriet Beecher Stowe (1812-1896). Author of “Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin,” the most widely read of American books, “ The Minister’s 
Wooing,” “ The Pearl of Orr’s Island,” “ Oldtown Folks,” etc. 

Francis Parkman (1823-1893). Eminent historian, who wrote a num¬ 
ber of volumes under the general title, “ France and England in North 
America.” , 

George William Curtis (1824-1892). Editor, essayist, and novelist. 
Principal works are “ Prue and I,” “ Trumps,” and “ Potiphar Papers.” 








IV. 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD . 

(1815-1861.) 

The First National Period extends from the close of 
the War of 1812 to the beginning of the Civil War. It 
covers nearly half a century, and exhibits great national 
expansion. The arduous tasks imposed upon the people 
during the Colonial and Revolutionary Periods were suc¬ 
cessfully achieved. The dreams of our forefathers began 
to be realized. “America,” says Hegel, “is the land of 
the future, where in the ages that lie before us the bur¬ 
den of the world’s history shall reveal itself.” During the 
period under consideration it made a long stride toward 
its coming greatness. 

With the establishment of peace in 1815, the United 
States entered upon an unparalleled era of prosperity. 
The development of the country went forward with great 
rapidity. An increasing tide of immigration, chiefly from 
Great Britain, Ireland, and Germany, swept to our shores. 
Of kindred blood, the great body of immigrants readily 
adjusted themselves to their new surroundings, and vig¬ 
orously joined with our native-born people in developing 
the agricultural, mineral, and industrial resources of our 
country. The population increased from 8,438,000 in 
1815 to 32,000,000 in 1861, thus equalling the leading 
nations of Europe. 


97 


9 8 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


The great valley of the Mississippi was occupied. Its 
fertility made it one of the most favored agricultural re¬ 
gions in the world. The invention of agricultural machi¬ 
nery made it possible to harvest immense crops of wheat 
and corn, for which a market was found in Europe. Trade 
and manufactures naturally attended upon agriculture ; and, 
as a result, flourishing towns and cities sprang up with 
unexampled rapidity. Cincinnati grew from a town of 
5,000 in 181 5 to a city of 161,000 in i860, while the growth 
of St. Louis and Chicago was still more phenomenal. 

The Atlantic States showed a development no less re¬ 
markable. The frontier, carried beyond the Mississippi, 
made the toils and dangers of border life a tradition. The 
invention of the steam-engine gave a new impulse to com¬ 
merce and manufacture. In addition to excellent high¬ 
ways, railroads traversed the country in all directions. 
The New England States developed large manufacturing 
interests. The seaboard cities grew in size, wealth, and cul¬ 
ture. Baltimore increased from 49,000 in 1815 to 212,000 
in i860. Within the same period, Boston increased from 
38,000 to 177,000; Philadelphia from 100,000 to 508,000 ; 
and New York from 100,000 to 813,000. 

The intellectual culture of the people kept pace with 
their material expansion. The public-school system was 
extended from New England throughout the free States. 
In the West liberal appropriations of land were made for 
their support. Gradually the courses of study and the 
methods of instruction were improved through the efforts 
of intelligent educators like Horace Mann and Henry 
Barnard. Schools of secondary education were founded 
in all parts of the country. No fewer than one hundred 
and forty-nine colleges were established between 1815 and 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 


99 


1861. These institutions, liberally supported by denomi¬ 
national zeal or by private munificence, became centres of 
literary culture. Harvard College exerted an astonishing 
influence. Between 1821 and 1831 it graduated Emerson, 
Holmes, Lowell, Sumner, Phillips, Motley, and Thoreau. 
Bancroft and Prescott were graduated at an earlier date. 
Longfellow, though a graduate of Bowdoin, for some years 
filled the chair of Modern Languages. This list, as will 
be seen, contains a number of the most honored names 
in American literature. 

The periodical press became a powerful agency in the 
diffusion of knowledge. In no other country, perhaps, 
has greater enterprise been shown in periodical literature 
than in America. Our newspapers, as a rule, show more 
energy, and our magazines more taste, than those of Eu¬ 
rope. In i860 there were 4,051 papers and periodicals, 
circulating annually 927,951,000 copies, an average of 
thirty-four copies for each man, woman, and child in the 
country. They gradually rose in excellence, and stimu¬ 
lated literary production. A few of our ablest writers, 
Bryant, Poe, Whittier, and Lowell, served as editors. The 
NortJi American Review , which was founded in 1815, 
numbered among its contributors nearly every writer of 
prominence in the Lirst National Period. 

As the foregoing considerations show, our country now, 
for the first time, presented conditions favorable to the 
production of general literature. The stress of the Colo¬ 
nial and Revolutionary Periods was removed, and the in¬ 
tellectual energies of the people were freer to engage in 
the arts of peace. The growing wealth of the country 
brought the leisure and culture that create, to a greater or 
less degree, a demand for the higher forms of literature. 


100 


AMERICAN LITER A TtJRE. 


The large cities became literary centres. Large publish¬ 
ing-houses were established. Under these circumstances 
it is not strange that there appeared writers in poetry, 
fiction, and history who attained a high degree of excel¬ 
lence. Irving, Cooper, Bryant, Hawthorne, Longfellow, 
Bancroft, Prescott, and others are names that reflect credit 
upon their country. 

It will be noticed that nearly all the great writers of 
this period were from New England. It was there that 
the conditions were most favorable. The West was still 
too new for much literary activity. Like the early colo¬ 
nists, the people were engaged in the great task of sub¬ 
duing an untamed country. In the South the social 
conditions were not favorable to literature. Slavery re¬ 
tarded the intellectual as well as the material development 
of the Southern States. It checked manufacture, and 
turned immigration westward. Manual labor contracted 
a fatal taint from slavery. While the slaveholding class 
were generally intelligent, and often highly cultured, the 
rest of the white population were comparatively illiterate. 
The public-school system, regarded as unfavorable to the 
existing social relations, was not adopted. The energies 
of the dominant class were devoted to politics rather than 
to literature. Thus, while the South had great debaters 
and orators, like Calhoun and Clay, it did not, during this 
period, produce a single writer of eminence. 

So far our inquiry ha,s sought an explanation of the 
literary activity of this period. The general causes, as 
in every period of literary bloom, are sufficiently patent. 
We may now examine the influences that gave literature 
its distinctive character as contrasted with that of the pre¬ 
ceding periods. The result will not be without interest. 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 


IOI 


The period under consideration witnessed a wonderful 
stride in the march of human progress. There was a re¬ 
naissance, based not on a restoration of ancient literature, 
but upon invention and science. It was not confined to 
any one country, but extended throughout the Christian 
world. It is not necessary to enumerate the various in¬ 
ventions which in a few decades revolutionized the entire 
system of agriculture, manufacture, and commerce. The 
drudgery of life was greatly relieved, the products of hu¬ 
man industry were vastly increased, and the comforts of 
life largely multiplied. The nations of the earth were 
drawn closer together, and the intellectual horizon was 
extended until it embraced, not a single province, but the 
civilized world. 

But the period was distinguished scarcely less by its 
spirit of scientific inquiry. Emancipating themselves 
largely from the authority of tradition, men learned to 
look upon the world for themselves. Patient toilers care¬ 
fully accumulated facts upon which to base their conclu¬ 
sions. All the natural sciences were wonderfully expanded. 
The origin of man, the history of the past, the laws of 
society, were all brought under new and searching investi¬ 
gation. As a result of all this scientific inquiry, a flood 
of light was shed upon the principal problems of nature 
and life. Christendom was lifted to a higher plane of in¬ 
telligence than it had ever reached before. 

This general renaissance produced a corresponding 
change in literature. It enriched literature with new 
treasures of truth. It taught men to look upon the uni¬ 
verse in a different way. Literary activity was stimulated, 
and both poetry and prose were cultivated to an extraor¬ 
dinary degree. New forms of literature were devised to 


102 


AMERICAN LI TER A 7'URE. 


hold the rich fruitage everywhere at hand. The frigid 
classicism of the age of Pope was abandoned as artificial 
and inadequate. The creative impulse of genius demanded 
untrammelled freedom. The essay acquired a new impor¬ 
tance. History was suffused with a philosophic spirit that 
gave it greater depth. Fiction entered a broader field, and 
while ministering to pleasure, became the handmaid of 
history, science, and social philosophy. 

The effect of this renaissance was felt in America 
largely by reflection. The literary expansion we have 
been considering went forward more rapidly in the British 
Isles than in the United States. It had already begun 
there, while the people of this country were still strug¬ 
gling with the great problems of political independence 
and national government. Before the close of the Revo¬ 
lutionary period here, Cowper and Burns had given a new 
direction to poetry in Great Britain. During the period 
under consideration, there arose in England and Scotland 
a group of able writers who were pervaded by the mod¬ 
ern spirit, and who, to a greater or less degree, influenced 
contemporary literature in America. Scott wrote his mas¬ 
terful historical novels. Wordsworth interpreted the in¬ 
audible voices of mountain, field, and sky. Byron poured 
forth his eloquent descriptions, irreverent satire, and som¬ 
bre misanthropy. Carlyle and Macaulay infused new life 
into history and essay. Dickens and Thackeray held up 
the mirror to various phases of social life. Coleridge in¬ 
terpreted to England the profound thoughts of German 
philosophy. The Edinburgh Review , founded by Jeffrey, 
Sydney Smith, and Henry Brougham, exercised its lordly 
dominion in the realm of letters. 

During the First National Period, there were two po- 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 


103 


litical questions that exerted a considerable influence upon 
the literature of this country. These were State rights 
and slavery. At frequent intervals these questions came 
up to disturb the public peace. For half a century they 
were dealt with in a spirit of compromise. But the views 
held and the interests involved were too conflicting to 
be permanently settled without an appeal to force. The 
statesmen of the South generally maintained the doctrine 
of State rights. It was boldly proclaimed in the United 
States Senate that a State had the right, under certain 
circumstances, to nullify an act of Congress. In 1830 
Webster attained the height of his forensic fame by his 
eloquent reply to Hayne on the doctrine of nullification. 

The question of slavery was still more serious. It was 
closely interwoven with the social organization of the 
South. The invention of the cotton gin in 1793 increased 
the demand for slave labor. The yield of cotton was rap¬ 
idly increased from year to year, till in i860 it reached the 
enormous figure of 2,054,698,800 pounds. Thus cotton 
became a source of great national wealth ; and as a result, 
slavery was intrenched behind the commercial and selfish 
interests of a large and influential class in all parts of the 
country. 

Nevertheless, there was a growing moral sentiment 
against slavery. It was felt to be a contradiction of the 
Declaration of Independence, and a violation of the natu¬ 
ral rights of man. In 1830 William Lloyd Garrison began 
the publication of an .antislavery paper called The Lib eta- 
tor, and with passionate zeal denounced a constitution that 
protected slavery, as “ a league with death and a covenant 
with hell.” The agitation for abolition was begun. In 
1833 an antislavery society was formed. Whittier, Long- 


104 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

fellow, Lowell, Phillips, and others lent the weight of their 
influence and the skill of their pens .to the antislavery 
movement. Harriet Beecher Stowe exerted no small in¬ 
fluence upon public sentiment in the North by “Uncle 
Tom’s Cabin,” a work in which the cruelties of slavery 
were graphically depicted. In a few years the abolition 
party became strong enough to enter national politics. 
The feeling between the North and the South became 
more pronounced and irreconcilable. Finally attempted 
secession precipitated a civil war, which resulted in the 
abolition of slavery, and the cementing of our country 
into a homogeneous and indissoluble union. 

With the First National Period our literature assumed, 
to some extent at least, a distinctively American charac¬ 
ter. New themes, requiring original treatment, were pre¬ 
sented to the literary worker. In the East, Indian life 
had become sufficiently remote to admit of idealistic treat¬ 
ment. In Cooper’s works the Indian is idealized as much 
as the mediaeval knight in the novels of Scott. The pic¬ 
turesque elements in pioneer life were more clearly dis¬ 
cerned. The wild life of the frontiersman began to appear 
in fiction, which, possessing the charm of novelty, was cor¬ 
dially received abroad. In the older parts of the country, 
tradition lent a legendary charm to various localities and 
different events. The legends of the Indians were found 
to possess poetic elements. From these sources Irving, 
Longfellow, and Hawthorne drew the materials for some 
of their most original and popular works. 

In the first half of the present century there were in 
New England two closely related movements that deserve 
mention for their important effect upon literature. The 
first of these was the Unitarian controversy. Though the 


FIRST NATIONAL PERIOD. 


105 


Unitarian doctrine is very old, and was held by a few New 
England churches in the eighteenth century, the contro¬ 
versy began in 1805, when Henry Ware, a learned Unita¬ 
rian, was elected professor of divinity in Harvard College. 
The capture of this leading institution by the Unitarians 
naturally provoked a theological conflict. The champions 
on the Unitarian side were Henry Ware, William Ellery 
Channing, and Andrews Norton; on the Trinitarian side, 
Leonard Woods, Moses Stuart, and Lyman Beecher. 
From 1815 to 1830 the discussion was the leading ques¬ 
tion of the time. Though conducted with great earnest¬ 
ness on both sides, the controversy was without that 
venomous character distinguished as odium theologicum. 
A large number of Congregational churches adopted the 
Unitarian belief. . Emphasizing the moral duties rather 
than the doctrinal beliefs of Christianity, the Unitarians be¬ 
came very active in education, philanthropy, and reform. 
It is not too much to say that all the leading writers of 
New England felt the stimulating and liberalizing influence 
of the Unitarian movement. 

The other movement referred to belongs to the sphere 
of philosophy, though it also affected religious belief. It 
has been characterized as transcendentalism. In spite of 
the levity with which the movement has sometimes been 
treated, it was an earnest protest against a materialistic 
philosophy, which teaches that the senses are our only 
source of knowledge. It was a reaction against what is 
dull, prosaic, and hard in every-day life. The central 
thing in transcendentalism is the belief that the human 
mind has the power to attain truth independently of the 
senses and the understanding. Emerson, himself a lead¬ 
ing transcendentalist, defines it as follows: “ What is 


106 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

popularly called Transcendentalism among us is Idealism : 
Idealism as it appears in 1842. As thinkers, mankind 
have ever divided into two sects, Materialists and Ideal¬ 
ists ; the first class founding on experience, the second on 
consciousness ; the first class beginning to think from the 
data of the senses, the second class perceive that the 
senses are not final, and say, the senses give us represen¬ 
tations of things, but what are the things themselves, they 
cannot tell. The materialist insists on facts, on history, 
on the force of circumstances and the animal wants of 
man; the idealist on the power of Thought and of Will, 
on inspiration, on miracle, on individual culture.” 

This idealistic or transcendental philosophy did not 
originate in New England, though it received a special 
coloring and application there. It began in Germany 
with the writings of Kant, Fichte, and Schelling; it was 
transported to England by Coleridge and Carlyle, through 
whose works it first made its way to America. It abounded 
in profound and fertile thought. It was taken up by a 
remarkable group of men and women in Boston and Con¬ 
cord, among whom were Emerson, Alcott, Thoreau, Parker, 
and Margaret Fuller. Their organ (for every movement 
at that time had to have its periodical) was The Dial. 
Transcendentalism exerted an elevating influence upon 
New England thought, and gave to our literature one of 
its greatest writers in the person of Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Contemporary with the transcendental movement, all 
sorts of novelties and projects of reform kept New Eng¬ 
land in a state of ferment. Spiritualism, phrenology, 
and -mesmerism attracted much attention. Temperance, 
woman’s rights, and socialism were all discussed in public 
gatherings and in the press. Many of these schemes, 


FIRS T NA TIONAL PERIOD. 


10 7 


which aimed at the regeneration of society, had the sym¬ 
pathy and encouragement of the transcendentalists. Some 
of their leading spirits participated in the Brook Farm ex¬ 
periment, which was based on the communistic teachings 
of Fourier. Though the experiment ended in failure, it 
gave the world Hawthorne’s “ Blithedale Romance,” in 
which the author utilized the observations made during his 
residence in the famous phalanstery. 


io8 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


WASHINGTON IRVING. 

To Washington Irving belongs the distinction of being the 
first of our great writers in general literature. He was not a 
great theologian like Jonathan Edwards, nor a practical phi¬ 
losopher and moralist like Franklin, nor a statesman like Jef¬ 
ferson and Hamilton. He was above all a literary man; and 
his writings belong, in large measure at least, to the field of 
belles-lettres. In his most characteristic writings he aimed not 
so much at instruction as at entertainment. He achieved tlilat 
finished excellence of form that at once elevates literature to 
the classic rank. He was the first American writer to gain 
general recognition abroad; or, to use Thackeray’s words, 
“ Irving was the first ambassador whom the New World of 
letters sent to the Old.” Our literature has had many 
“ ambassadors ” since; but it is doubtful whether any other 
has ever been more cordially welcomed or more pleasantly 
remembered. 

Washington Irving was born in the city of New York, 
April 3, 1783, the youngest of eleven children. The Revo¬ 
lutionary War was ended, and the American army occupied 
the city. “Washington’s work is ended,” said the mother, 
“and the child shall be named after him.” Six years later, 
when Washington had become the first President of the young 
republic, a Scotch maid-servant of the Irving family one day 
followed him into a shop. “Please, your honor,” said she, 
“here’s a bairn was named after you.” With grave dignity 
the President laid his hand on the child’s head, and bestowed 
his blessing. 

Not much can be said of young Irving’s education. Like 
many another brilliant writer in English literature, he took 




WASHINGTON IRVING. 


























































WASHINGTON IRVING. 


IO9 


but little interest in the prescribed courses of study. As was 
said of Shakespeare, he knew little Latin and less Greek. 
But it would be a mistake to suppose that his early years went 
unimproved. His literary bent asserted itself in the neglect 
of such studies as did not interest him. During his boyhood 
he was an eager reader. Books of poetry and travel were 
quickly devoured. The creative literary impulse was early 
manifested in the composition of verses and childish plays. 

Two of his brothers had been sent to Columbia College. 
But his disinclination to methodical study deprived.him of 
this privilege. Perhaps it was just as well; for his genius 
was left freer to pursue its own development. At sixteen 
he entered a law office; but from what has already been said, 
it will not appear strange that he neglected his law-books for 
works of literature. In 1798 he spent a part of his summer 
vacation in exploring with his gun the Sleepy Hollow region 
which he was afterwards to immortalize with the magic of his 
pen. At this period he showed symptoms of pulmonary weak¬ 
ness; and for several years he spent much time in out-door ex¬ 
ercise, making excursions along the Hudson and the Mohawk. 
Though he did not at the time turn his experience to account 
in a literary way, he was all the while, perhaps unconsciously 
to himself, storing up materials for future use. 

In 1804 it was thought that a voyage to Europe would be 
beneficial to his health. Accordingly he took passage for 
Bordeaux in a sailing-vessel. “There’s a chap,” said the 
captain to himself as young Irving went on board, “that 
will go overboard before we get across.” But the gloomy 
prediction was not fulfilled; and after a voyage of six weeks 
— it was not the day of ocean greyhounds — he reached his 
destination much improved in health. 

He visited in successidn the principal cities of France and 
Italy. He had not yet found his vocation, and his life abroad 
appears sufficiently aimless. He gave free play to his large 
social nature, and to the ordinary observer he seemed a mere 
pleasure-seeker. But he was accomplishing more than he or 


I IO 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


his friends understood. He made the acquaintance of many- 
eminent persons, and his genial nature and pleasing manners 
made him welcome in the brilliant social circles to which 
he was introduced. He had an opportunity to study Euro¬ 
pean society in all its phases. He added to his knowledge 
of English literature an acquaintance with the literatures of 
France and Italy. He was brought into sympathetic contact 
with the art and antiquities of Europe. He was one of the 
keenest observers. While thus storing his memory with knowl¬ 
edge afterwards to be invaluable to him, his culture was ex¬ 
panding into the breadth of cosmopolitan sympathies. 

He met the inconveniences and discomforts inseparable 
from travel in those days with a truly philosophic spirit. 
‘‘When I cannot get a dinner to suit my taste,” he said, “I 
endeavor to get a taste to suit my dinner.” He was no chronic 
grumbler. He made it a habit all through life to look on 
the pleasant side of things. “I endeavor,” he said, “to be 
pleased with everything about me, and with the masters, mis¬ 
tresses, and servants of the inns, particularly when I perceive 
they have all the dispositions in the world to serve me; as 
Sterne says, ‘ It is enough for heaven and ought to be enough 
for me. ’ ” 

He did not carry with him in his travels the statesman’s 
interest in the political condition of Europe. Politics were 
never to his taste. He preferred to wander over the scenes of 
renowned achievement, to loiter about the ruined castle, to 
lose himself among the shadowy grandeurs of the past. The 
pathetic constancy of Petrarch for Laura appealed to him 
more than the meteoric splendor of Napoleon. 

In the course of his travels he visited Rome, where he mef 
Washington Allston. The acquaintance for a time threatened 
to change the course of his life. Allston’s enthusiasm for 
art proved contagious. The charm of the Italian landscape, 
the inestimable treasures of art in the city of the Caesars, 
made a profound impression on Irving’s refined and poetic 
sensibilities. For a time he thought of becoming a painter. 


WASHINGTON IRVING. 


111 

As we may clearly discern in his writings, he had an artistic 
eye for color and form. Had he adhered to this temporary 
purpose, it is possible that he might, like his friend and com¬ 
patriot, have given us some admirable paintings. But it is 
well-nigh certain that the world would have been the loser; 
for what pictures could compensate for the loss of the “ Sketch- 
Book,” “ Bracebridge Hall,” and the “Tales of a Traveller”? 

Irving returned to America in 1806, and was admitted to 
the bar. His legal attainments were slender, and his interest 
in his profession superficial. Instead of throwing his heart 
into it, he allowed much of his time and energy to be absorbed 
in social enjoyments. At this period he first gave decided 
indications of his future career. A strong literary instinct 
is irrepressible. In association with his brother William and 
James K. Paulding, he issued a semi-monthly periodical, en¬ 
titled Salmagundi. It was an imitation of the Spectator, and 
aimed “simply to instruct the young, reform the old, cor¬ 
rect the town, and castigate the age.” The writers veiled 
themselves in mystery. They affected utter indifference to 
either praise or blame, and with lofty superiority criticised the 
manners of the town. The wit and humor were delightful, and 
from the start the paper had a flattering success. But after 
running through twenty numbers, it stopped in the midst of 
its success as suddenly as it had burst upon the astonished 
community. . 

It was almost inevitable that Irving should be drawn into 
politics. With no taste for law, he found it tedious waiting 
for clients who never came. Local politics seemed to pre¬ 
sent an inviting field; but a brief experience was enough. He 
toiled “through the purgatory” of one election. He got 
through the first two days pretty well. Among his new as¬ 
sociates he kept on the lookout for “whim, character, and 
absurdity.” Then the duties of a ward politician began to 
pall upon him. Referring with characteristic humor to his 
unsavory experience, he wrote: a I shall not be able to bear 
the smell of small beer and tobacco for a month to come.” 



I 12 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Irving early had his romance, and it makes the most pa¬ 
thetic incident in his life. He formed a deep attachment for 
Matilda Hoffman, a young lady of great personal charm. His 
love was as ardently returned. But before the wedding-day 
arrived, she fell sick and died. He never entirely recovered 
from this loss, which seems to have tinged his character ever 
afterwards with a gentle melancholy. With a constancy as 
beautiful as it is rare, he remained faithful to his first love 
throughout life. 

It was while burdened with a sense of his irreparable loss 
that he completed the work that was to make him famous. 
This was “Knickerbocker’s History of New York.” It is a 
humorous treatment of the traditions and customs belonging 
to the period of the Dutch domination. The personal charac¬ 
teristics of the phlegmatic Dutch governors, and the leading 
events in the early history of the city, are treated in a delight¬ 
ful, mock-heroic vein. The work was received with almost 
universal acclaim. It became a household word. After a 
lapse of forty years, Irving tells us that he found New York¬ 
ers of Dutch descent priding themselves on being “genuine 
Knickerbockers. ” 

The next five years of Irving’s life were neither very serious 
nor very fruitful. Though so strongly drawn to literature that 
he was scarcely fit for anything else, he was afraid to adopt a 
literary career. He entered into a mercantile partnership with 
his brothers, in which he was required to do but little work. 
In the interests of the firm, when Congress threatened some 
legislation unfavorable to importing merchants, he made a 
visit to Washington. But there, as well as in Philadelphia and 
Baltimore, social pleasures occupied him more than the action 
of Congress. He steadily refused to look on the darker side 
of human nature or human life. He would not believe that 
wisdom consists in a knowledge of the wickedness of men, and 
confessed that he entertained “ a most melancholy good opin¬ 
ion and good will for the great mass of my fellow-creatures.” 

While in Washington he saw a good deal of the leading 


WASHINGTON IRVING. 


I 13 

men of the country. Though his sympathies were with the 
Federalists, he was not a violent partisan. He was far too 
broad-minded to become a bigot in either religion or politics. 
He was on good terms with the leaders of both political par¬ 
ties, and laughed equally at their extravagance. “One day,” 
he writes, “ I am dining with a knot of honest, furious Feder¬ 
alists, who are damning all their opponents as a set of con¬ 
summate scoundrels, panders to Bonaparte, etc. The next day 
I dine, perhaps, with some of the very men I have heard thus 
anathematized, and find them equally honest, warm, and indig¬ 
nant; and, if I take their word for it, I had been dining the 
day before with some of the greatest knaves in the nation, 
men absolutely paid and suborned by the British government.” 

For a time the business of his brothers (they were impor¬ 
ters of hardware and cutlery) required his services at the store 
pretty constantly. The work was distasteful to him beyond 
measure. “By all the martyrs of Grub Street,” he exclaimed,. 
“I’d sooner live in a garret, and starve into the bargain, than 
follow so sordid, dusty, and soul-killing a way of life, though 
certain it would make me as rich as old Croesus, or John Jacob 
Astor himself.” He became editor of a periodical called Select 
Reviews , for which he wrote some biographies and sketches, 
a few of which afterwards appeared in the “Sketch Book.” 
But he soon grew tired of his position, for he had an invinci¬ 
ble aversion to regular work. 

The year the second war with Great Britain closed, Irving 
sailed for Europe, where the next seventeen years of his life 
were spent, — years rich in experience and literary activity. It 
was during this period that a number of his choicest works 
were produced. His reputation as the author of “Knicker¬ 
bocker” made him a welcome guest in literary circles. In 
London he dined at Murray’s, where he met some of the nota¬ 
ble writers of the day. He was cordially received at Edin¬ 
burgh; and he spent some days with Scott, of whose home 
and habits he has given so delightful a description in “Abbots¬ 
ford.” 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


1 14 

As we should naturally expect, Irving was a great admirer 
of Isaac Walton. He made more than one visit to the haunts 
of the illustrious angler. On one occasion he wandered by the 
banks of the romantic Dove in company with a “lovely girl,” 
who pointed out to him the beauties of the surrounding sce¬ 
nery, and repeated “in the most dulcet voice tracts of heaven- 
born poetry.” 

Upon the failure of the branch house of his brothers in 
Liverpool, he went to London to embark upon the literary 
career for which nature had so evidently intended him. He 
was urged by Scott to become editor of an anti-Jacobin peri¬ 
odical in Edinburgh. This he refused to do for two reasons 
already familiar to us, —his distaste for politics, and his aver¬ 
sion to regular literary work. He also declined an offer to 
become a contributor of the London Quarterly , with the liberal 
pay of one hundred guineas an article. “ It has always been 
so hostile to my country,” he said, “I cannot draw a pen in 
its service.” This is the language of high-toned patriotism. 

In 1819 he began the publication of the “Sketch-Book.” 
It was written in England, and sent over to New York, where it 
was issued in octavo numbers. Some of them were reprinted 
in London without the author’s consent; and to prevent the 
entire work from being pirated, Irving found it necessary to 
bring out an edition in England. After once declining it in 
the polite manner for which publishers have become noted, 
Murray was afterwards persuaded by Scott to bring out the 
work. He purchased the copyright for two hundred pounds, 
which, with noteworthy liberality, he subsequently raised to 
four hundred. 

In comparing the “Sketch Book” with Irving’s previous 
work, it is impossible not to perceive his intellectual develop-' 
ment. He has acquired a greater depth of thought and feel¬ 
ing. His sympathies have gained in scope. His hand has 
acquired a more exquisite touch. As a natural result of the 
tribulations through which he had passed, a number of the 
sketches are tinged with sadness. In only two of them does 


WASHINGTON IRVING. 


115 

he give rein to his inimitable humor; but these two, “Rip 
Van Winkle” and the “Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” will en¬ 
dure as long as the beautiful region with which they are asso¬ 
ciated. The “Sketch Book” exerted an important influence 
upon American literature. While stimulating our writers with 
the bright possibilities before them, it rendered henceforth 
inartistic or slovenly work intolerable. 

The applause with which America greeted the appearance 
of the “ Sketch Book ” was echoed by England. Irving be¬ 
came the lion of the day. There seemed to be “a kind of 
conspiracy,” as some one wrote at the time, “to hoist him 
over the heads of his contemporaries.” But he was not elated 
by his success. Vanity is a vice of smaller souls. “I feel 
almost appalled by such success,” he wrote to a friend, “and 
fearful that it cannot be real, or that it is not fully merited, or 
that I shall not act up to the expectations that may be formed.” 

In 1820 Irving made a visit to Paris, where his reputation 
secured him flattering recognition. Here he made the ac¬ 
quaintance of Thomas Moore, whom he characterized as a 
“noble-hearted, manly, spirited little fellow, with a mind as 
generous as his fancy is brilliant.” A warm friendship sprang 
up between them. Irving found too many distractions in Paris 
to do much literary work. An eruptive malady, which ap¬ 
peared in his ankles and at intervals incapacitated him for 
walking, sometimes rendered literary composition difficult 
or impossible. Notwithstanding these hindrances he wrote 
“Bracebridge Hall,” which was published in 1822, the year of 
his return to England. It is made up of a series of delight¬ 
ful sketches, chiefly descriptive of country life in England. 
He had traversed that country, as he tells us, “a grown-up 
child, delighted by every object, great and small.” His deli¬ 
cate and genial observation caught much of the poetry, pictur¬ 
esqueness, and humor of English life. It shows the same 
exquisite workmanship that characterized the “ Sketch Book;” 
and some of its stories, like “The Stout Gentleman,” “Annette 
Delarbre,” and “Dolph Heyleger,” are models of brilliant and 


ii 6 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


effective narrative. It is significant of Irving’s growing repu¬ 
tation that Murray paid a thousand pounds for the copyright. 

After a visit to Dresden, where he found congenial society 
in an English family, and a trip to Prague, which still kept up 
“its warrior look,” we find him in 1823 again in Paris. Its 
gayeties had an attraction for him. He worked at irregular 
intervals, for he was almost wholly dependent upon impulse 
or inspiration. When the inspiration was on him, he wrote 
very rapidly; and having once begun a book, he labored dili¬ 
gently till it was completed. The following year his “Tales 
of a Traveller” appeared, one of his most delightful books. 
Irving himself said that “there was more of an artistic touch 
about it, though this is not a thing to be appreciated by the 
many.” He sold the copyright to Murray for fifteen hundred 
pounds, and, according to Moore, might have had two thou¬ 
sand ; but it was no part of his genius to drive shrewd bargains. 

But the time had now come for him to open a new vein. 
In 1826, at the invitation of Alexander H. Everett, United 
States Minister at Madrid, he went to the Spanish capital for 
the purpose of translating a recent collection of documents 
relating to the voyages of Columbus. He found a rich store 
of materials that had never been utilized, and resolved to 
write an independent work. The result was the publication 
in 1828 of his “Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus,” 
a work of extensive research and admirable treatment. It was 
eagerly read, and Jeffrey declared that no work would ever 
supersede it. It at once gave Irving an honorable place among 
historians. 

The “Conquest of Granada,/” the most interesting, perhaps, 
of his Spanish works, was closely related to the “Life of 
Columbus.” It was while pursuing his researches for the 
latter work that he became interested in the stirring and 
romantic scenes connected with the overthrow of the Moorish 
dominion in Spain. Subsequently he made a tour of Anda¬ 
lusia, and visited the towns, fortresses, and mountain-passes 
that had been the scenes of the most remarkable events of the 


WASHING TO JV IRVING. 


ii 7 

war. He passed some time in the ancient palace of the Al¬ 
hambra, the once favorite abode of the Moorish monarchs. 
With these scenes fresh in his mind, he wrote the “Conquest 
of Granada;” and though he allowed himself some freedom 
in its romantic coloring (for the subject appealed strongly to 
his imagination), he remained faithful to historical fact. It 
is a graphic and thrilling narrative of romantic events. 

Of his other Spanish works — “The Alhambra,” “Legends 
of the Conquest of Spain,” and “ Mahomet and his Successors” 
— it is not necessary to speak. The subjects were all emi¬ 
nently congenial to his mind, and susceptible of his peculiar 
felicity of treatment. They sustained, if they did not add to, 
his growing fame. Literary honors were bestowed upon him. 
In 1830 the Royal Society of Literature in England awarded 
him a gold medal; and the year following the University of 
Oxford conferred upon him the degree of LL.D.,—a title 
which his modesty never permitted him to use. 

In 1829 Irving left Spain, and served for some time as 
Secretary of Legation at the Court of St. James. It was a 
period of great social and political unrest in England and 
France; and, for once in his life, he took a keen interest in 
current events. He visited again many points of interest in 
England, and had the melancholy pleasure of seeing Scott 
in the sad eclipse of his powers. 

In 1832, after an absence of seventeen years, he returned 
to his native land, and was accorded an enthusiastic welcome 
as its most distinguished representative in the world of letters. 
Nothing but his modest shrinking from publicity prevented 
a round of banquets in various cities. He was delighted to 
note the great progress the nation had made during his absence. 
To acquaint himself more fully with its resources and develop¬ 
ment, he visited different parts of the country. His “Tour on 
the Prairies” embodies the observations and experiences of a 
trip to the region beyond the Mississippi, still the haunt of 
the buffalo and wild Indian. 

With his simple and quiet tastes, Irving now longed for 


ii 8 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


a home. Accordingly he purchased a little farm at a lovely 
spot on the Hudson, not far from the Sleepy Hollow he had 
immortalized. The house was remodelled, and the grounds 
arranged in exquisite taste. To this charming residence he 
gave the name of Sunnyside. He received under his roof a 
number of near relatives, including a half dozen nieces, for 
whom he showed an affection as tender as it was admirable. 
Henceforth Sunnyside became to him the dearest spot on 
earth; he always left it with reluctance, and returned to it 
with eagerness. It was here that the greater part of his life 
was spent after his return to America. Few persons have been 
happier in their surroundings. 

The ten years succeeding his return to America were, upon 
the whole, delightful to him. He had seen enough of the 
world to relish the quiet of his picturesque home. He was 
honored as the leading American writer of his day. But more 
than that, he was esteemed for his excellence of character. 
It is hardly too much to say that he was the most prominent 
private citizen of the republic. Almost any political position 
to which he might have aspired was within his reach. But 
a public career was not to his taste. He declined to be 
a candidate for mayor of New York — which cost perhaps 
no great struggle. But a seat in Mr. Van Buren's cabinet as 
Secretary of the Navy was likewise declined. The life of a 
government officer in Washington possessed no attractions for 
him, and his sensitive nature shrank from the personal attacks 
to which prominent officials are exposed. 

During the ten years under consideration, he was busy 
with his pen. He became a regular contributor to the Knick¬ 
erbocker Magazine at a salary of two thousand dollars a year. 
In addition to the “Tour on the Prairies ” already mentioned,' 
he wrote “Abbotsford” and “Newstead Abbey” — admira¬ 
ble sketches of the homes of Scott and Byron. “ Captain 
Bonneville ” is a story of adventure in the far West. It de¬ 
scribes in a very vivid way the wild, daring, reckless life of 
the hunter, trapper, and explorer. Among the literary schemes 


WASHINGTON IRVING. 


119 

of this period must be mentioned his contemplated history of 
the conquest of Mexico. It was a theme well suited to his 
talents, and his previous work on Spanish subjects fitted him 
for the task. He had collected a large amount of material, and 
composed the first chapter; but learning that Mr. Prescott de¬ 
sired to treat the subject, Irving magnanimously abandoned it. 
It was a great personal sacrifice. “ I was dismounted from my 
cheval de bataille , ” he wrote years afterwards, “ and have never 
been completely mounted since.” In spite of Mr. Prescott’s 
splendid work, we cannot help regretting that Irving gave up 
his cherished theme. 

In 1842 the quiet but busy literary life of Irving was inter¬ 
rupted by his appointment as minister to Spain. The nomina¬ 
tion was suggested by Webster. In the Senate, Clay, who was 
opposing nearly all of the President’s appointments, exclaimed, 
“Ah, this is a nomination that everybody will concur in!” 
The appointment was confirmed almost by acclamation. The 
appointment was a surprise to Irving; and, while he could 
not be insensible to the honor, its acceptance cost him pain. 
It necessitated a protracted absence from his beloved Sunny- 
side. “It is hard,—-very hard,” he was heard murmuring 
to himself; “yet I must try to bear it.” 

There is not space to follow him in his diplomatic career. 
It was a turbulent period in Spain; but he discharged the 
somewhat difficult duties of his post, not only with fidelity, 
but also with ability. But the splendors of court life had lost 
their charm for him. From the pomp of the Spanish capital 
his heart fondly turned to his home on the Hudson. “ I long 
to be once more back at dear little Sunnyside,” he wrote in 
1845, “while I have yet strength and good spirits to enjoy 
the simple pleasures of the country, and to rally a happy 
family group once more about me.” He gave up his mission 
in 1846. 

The year of his return to America he published his “Life 
of Goldsmith,” which is one of the most charming biogra¬ 
phies ever written. There was not a little in common between 


20 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Irving and Goldsmith. They had alike a tender and indulgent 
regard for the world; they had felt the same roving disposi¬ 
tion; they possessed a similar mastery of exquisite English. 
“Perhaps it is significant of a deeper unity in character,” to 
borrow a delightful touch from Charles Dudley Warner, “that 
both, at times, fancied they could please an intolerant world 
by attempting to play the flute.” Irving’s treatment of Gold¬ 
smith is exquisitely sympathetic. “Mahomet and his Suc¬ 
cessors ” appeared in 1849, and is a popular rather than a 
profound treatise. Irving’s greatest work in the department 
of history was his “Life of Washington.” The last volume 
was published in 1859, shortly before his death. It was the 
work of his ripe old age, and is a masterpiece of biography. 
It is clear in its arrangement, admirable in its proportion, 
impartial in its judgments, and finished in its style. 

The closing years of his life were serene and happy. He 
held a high place in the affection of his countrymen. He was 
surrounded by the quiet domestic joys that he loved so well. 
H is labors on the life of the great hero whose name he had 
received three quarters of a century before were thoroughly 
congenial. Thus he lived on, retaining his kindly feeling for 
the world, till the death summons suddenly came, Nov. 28, 
1859. Although he had reached an age beyond the usual 
period allotted to man, the tidings of his death were received 
throughout the country with profound sorrow. But grief was 
deepest among those who had known him most intimately. 
His unpretending neighbors and the little children wept around 
his grave. 

What Irving was, has been indicated in some measure in 
the course of this sketch. He had a large, generous nature, 
the kindliness of which is everywhere apparent. Through his 
wide reading and extensive travels, he acquired a culture of 
great breadth. He was at home with the explorer on the 
prairie, or with the sovereign in his court. The gentle ele¬ 
ments predominated in his character; he was not inclined 
to make war upon mankind, and with savage zeal to denounce 


WASHINGTON IRVING. 


121 


their wickedness and shams. He was an observer of humanity 
rather than a reformer; and he reported what he saw with all 
the grace of a rich imagination and delicate humor. He was 
always loyal to truth and right. But in dealing with human 
frailty, his severest weapon was kindly satire. He evoked a 
smile at the foibles and eccentricities of men. His heart was 
of womanly tenderness; and for the sorrows and misfortunes 
of men he had tears of sympathy. The death of such a 
man is a loss, not only to literature, but, what is much more, 
to humanity itself. 


122 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 

Cooper deserves the honor of being the most national 
of our writers. He was less influenced by foreign models 
and foreign subjects than any of his great contemporaries. 
The works upon which his fame chiefly rests are thoroughly 
American. He was the first fully to grasp and treat the 
stores of materials to be found in the natural scenery, early 
history, and pioneer life of this Republic. He was at home 
alike on land and sea; and in his narrations he spoke from 
the fulness of his own observation and experience, and gave 
us pictures of those early days which will grow in interest as 
they are removed farther from us by the lapse of time. He 
opened a new vein of thought. It was largely owing to this 
freshness of subject and treatment that his works attained an 
extraordinary popularity, not alone in this country, but also in 
Europe. They came as a revelation to the Old World, which 
had grown tired of well-worn themes. They were eagerly 
seized upon, and translated into nearly every European tongue, 
and even into some of the languages of the Orient. No other 
American writer has been so extensively read. 

James Fenimore Cooper was born at Burlington, N.J., 
Sept. 15, 1789, the eleventh of twelve children. His father 
was of Quaker and his mother of Swedish descent. When he 
was thirteen months old, the family moved to Cooperstown, on 
the southeastern shore of Otsego Lake, in the central part'of 
Nev York. In this picturesque region, diversified with moun¬ 
tains, lakes, and woods, the childhood of Cooper was passed. 
It was at that time on the borders of civilization, and the little 
village presented a striking mixture of nationalities and occu¬ 
pations. Along with German, French, and Irish adventurers 



JAMES FENIMORE COOPER 








JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 


123 


were found the backwoodsman, the hunter, and the half-civil¬ 
ized Indian. The deep impression made upon young Cooper’s 
mind by the wild scenery and unsettled life about him is 
shown in the fact that he located three of his novels in this 
region. 

Cooper’s education presents the melancholy story so often 
met with in the lives of literary men. He took but little 
interest in his studies. His first instruction was received in 
the academy at Cooperstown, where, in spite of its pretentious 
name, the teaching was crude. He afterwards studied in 
Albany as a private pupil under an Episcopal rector. At the 
age of thirteen, Cooper entered the Freshman class at Yale, 
the youngest student but one in the college. According to 
his own confession, he played all the first year, and there is 
nothing to show that he did better afterwards. In place of 
digging at his Latin and Greek, he delighted in taking long 
walks about the wooded hills and beautiful bay of New Haven. 
Nature was more to him than books, a preference that college 
faculties are generally slow to appreciate. At last in his third 
year he engaged in some mischief that led to his dismissal 
from the college. This failure in his education was peculiarly 
unfortunate. His lack of a refined and scholarly taste has tol¬ 
erated in his works a crudeness of form that largely detracts 
from their excellence. 

It was now decided that Cooper should enter the navy. 
The influence of his father, who was a prominent Federalist 
and had been for several years a member of Congress, promised 
a speedy advancement. He began his apprenticeship (there 
was no naval academy then) in the merchant marine, and 
served a year before the mast. He entered *the navy as mid¬ 
shipman in January, 1808. He was stationed for a time on 
Lake Ontario, where he imbibed the impressions afterwards 
embodied in the graphic descriptions of “The Pathfinder.” 
In 1809 he was transferred to the Wasp, then under the com¬ 
mand of Lawrence, a hero to whom he was warmly attached. 
The details of his naval career are scanty. Though it does 


124 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


not appear that he was engaged in any thrilling events, he 
accumulated a large store of incident, and acquired a techni¬ 
cal knowledge, which were afterwards turned to good account 
in his admirable sea stories. 

His naval career was cut short by his falling in love. In 
January, 1811, he married a Miss De Lancey, a lady of Hu¬ 
guenot family, and five months later he tendered his resig¬ 
nation in the navy. He made no unworthy choice, and his 
domestic life appears to have been singularly happy. With a 
sufficiently strong, not to say obstinate, will, and with high 
notions of masculine prerogative in the family, he was still 
largely controlled by the delicate tact of his wife, who always 
retained a strong hold upon his large and tender heart. For 
some time after his marriage he was unsettled. He first re¬ 
sided in Westchester County, New York; then he moved to 
Cooperstown, where he spent the next three years; afterwards 
he returned to Westchester, and occupied a house that com¬ 
manded a view of Long Island Sound. Up to this time his 
chief occupation had been farming ; and he had shown no 
sign whatever either of an inclination or of an ability to 
write. 

His entrance upon a literary career appears to have been 
the merest accident. He was one day reading to his wife a 
novel descriptive of English society. It did not please him; 
and at last, laying it down with some impatience, he ex¬ 
claimed: “I believe I could write a better story myself.” 
Challenged to make good his boast, he at once set himself to 
the task. It did not occur to him to treat an American theme 
with which he was familiar. America had achieved her politi¬ 
cal but not her intellectual independence of the mother coun¬ 
try. He accordingly produced a novel of high life in England, 
which, under the title of “ Precaution,” was published in 1820. 
It did not occur to him as an obstacle that he knew nothing 
about English life. The day of an exacting realism had not 
yet come, and men were still permitted to write of things that 
they knew nothing about. Of course the work was a failure; 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 


125 


but it came so near being a success that Cooper was encour¬ 
aged to try his hand again. 

This time he chose an American subject, and without 
knowing it fell into the vocation for which his talents emi¬ 
nently fitted him. Years before, at the house of John Jay, he 
had heard the story of a Revolutionary spy that deeply im¬ 
pressed him. This story he made the basis of his novel; and 
the scene he laid in Westchester, with which his long resi¬ 
dence had made him familiar, and which had been a battle¬ 
ground for the British and American armies. He had but little 
expectation of its favorable reception. He doubted whether 
his countrymen would read a book that treated of familiar 
scenes and interests. The result undeceived him, and fixed 
him in the career to which he was to give the rest of his life. 
“The Spy” appeared at the close of 1821, and in a short time 
met with a sale that was pronounced unprecedented in the 
annals of American literature. It was received with the en¬ 
thusiasm that greeted the successive Waverley novels in Eng¬ 
land. The transatlantic verdict, which was awaited with 
something of servile trepidation, confirmed the American 
judgment. “Genius in America,” said Blackwood, “must keep 
to America to achieve any great work. Cooper has done so, 
and taken his place among the most powerful of the imagi¬ 
native spirits of the age.” “The Spy” was soon translated 
into several European languages; and, in short, i-t made 
Cooper’s reputation at home and abroad. 

His next work was “The Pioneers,” which was published 
in 1823. The scene is laid at the author’s early home on 
Otsego Lake, and describes not only the natural scenery, but 
also the types of character and modes of living with which 
he became familiar in childhood. In producing this work he 
drew less upon his imagination than upon his memory. As we 
read his life, it is not difficult to discover the originals of some 
of his leading portraits. The book was written, as he has told 
us, exclusively to please himself; and he has dwelt upon sepa¬ 
rate scenes and incidents with such fondness as seriously to 


126 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


retard the story. It was the first of the now famous “ Leather¬ 
stocking Tales,” though hardly the best of them. It was 
awaited by the public with impatience; and by noon, the day 
of its appearance, no fewer than three thousand five hunched 
copies were sold in New York. 

Before “The Pioneers” was published he was already at 
work upon a new novel, in which he entered an untried field. 
Like his first work, it sprang from the impulse of a moment. 
The author of “Waverley” had recently published “The 
Pirate,” which came under discussion at a dinner-party in 
Cooper’s presence. The nautical passages were greatly ad¬ 
mired, and were cited as a proof that Scott, the lawyer and 
poet, could not have written it. Cooper dissented from this 
judgment, and boldly challenged the seamanship of the work. 
In spite of the nautical knowledge it displayed, it still be¬ 
trayed to his mind the hand of a landsman. “The result of 
this conversation,” to quote his own words, “was a sudden 
determination to produce 'a work which, if it had no other 
merit, might present truer pictures of the ocean and ships than 
any that are to be found in ‘The Pirate.’” Returning home, 
with the plan of the work already shaping itself in his mind, 
he said to his wife: “I must write one more book— a sea-tale 
— to show what can be done in that way by a sailor.” 

Though he was discouraged in the undertaking by his 
friends, Cooper wisely followed the leading of his genius. 
“The Pilot” takes high rank as a tale of the sea. The plot 
was suggested by the cruise of Paul Jones in the Ranger, who, 
without being named, occupies the foremost place in the story. 
The work appeared in 1824, and at once attained a wide popu¬ 
larity. Its descriptions of storm, battle, and shipwreck are ex¬ 
ceedingly vivid. It contains the character of Long Tom Coffin, 
who, like Natty Bumppo, or Leatherstocking, may be regarded 
as a permanent contribution to literature. It was at once trans¬ 
lated into French, German, and Italian, and was scarcely less 
popular in Europe than in America. 

In 1826 appeared “The Last of the Mohicans,” which 


JAMES FEN7MORE COOPER. 


127 


occupies a high rank — some think the highest rank—of all 
Cooper’s works. It belongs to the “Leatherstocking Tales.” 
The interest never abates from beginning to end. “It is in- 
deed an open question,” says an admirable critic and biog¬ 
rapher, 1 “whether a higher art would not have given more 
breathing-places in this exciting tale, in which the mind is 
hurried without pause from sensation to sensation.” It is 
needless to say that its success was instantaneous and pro¬ 
digious. The novelty of its scenes and characters, as well as 
its powerful narrative, gave it extraordinary popularity abroad. 
There can be no doubt that he idealized the Indian character. 
But however different from the Indians of actual life, the crea¬ 
tions of Cooper have appealed strongly to the imaginations of 
men. 

Cooper was now living in the city of New York, whither he 
had moved in 1822. The income from his works had placed 
him in easy circumstances. His literary reputation, unequalled 
by any other American, with the possible exception of Irving, 
made him a prominent figure in the social life of the city. He 
founded a club which included in its membership Chancellor 
Kent, Verplanck the editor of Shakespeare, Jarvis the painter, 
Durand the engraver, Wiley the publisher, Morse the inventor 
of the electric telegraph, Halleck and Bryant the poets. He 
was a regular attendant at the weekly meetings of the club, of 
which he was the life and soul. 

The year “The Last of the Mohicans” was published, 
Cooper carried out a long cherished purpose to visit Europe, 
where he spent the next seven years. He served as consul at 
Lyons for nearly three years. He made a trip through Swit¬ 
zerland, and visited in succession Naples, Rome, Venice, Mu¬ 
nich, and Dresden; but most of his time was spent in Paris. 
He was not a man to enjoy being lionized; but after his 
presence in the French capital became known he could not 
escape from receiving a full share of attention. Scott met 
him at an evening reception, and noted in his diary: “Cooper 
l Lounsbury, James Fenimore Cooper, p. 53. 


128 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


was there, so the Scotch and American lions took the field 
together. ” 

But Cooper’s time abroad was not exclusively spent in the 
enjoyment of natural scenery, art treasures, and refined society. 
His literary productivity continued without serious abatement. 
Among the numerous works produced during his seven years’ 
residence abroad there are two that deserve particular mention. 
“The Prairie” was added to the Leatherstocking series, and 
“The Red Rover” to his sea-tales. Both occupy a high place 
among his works. His popularity in Europe had now reached a 
high point. Five editions of “The Prairie” were arranged to 
appear at the same time, — two in Paris, one in London, one in 
Berlin, and one in Philadelphia. Outside of England he was, 
perhaps, read more extensively than Scott. “ In every city of 
Europe that I visited,” wrote the inventor of the electric tele¬ 
graph, “the works of Cooper were conspicuously placed in 
the windows of every bookshop. They are published, as soon 
as he produces them, in thirty-four different places in Europe. 
They have been seen by American travellers in the languages 
of Turkey and Persia, in Constantinople, in Egypt, at Jeru¬ 
salem, at Ispahan.” 

With the year 1830 closed the happiest and most successful 
period of Cooper’s literary career. After that date he became 
involved in controversies abroad and at home that cost him 
heavily in purse and in popularity. He was intensely Ameri¬ 
can in sentiment — proud of the institutions, the material pros¬ 
perity, and the ~apidly growing power of his country. With 
prophetic foresight he confidently predicted the growth that has 
since been realized. With his honest, positive, and pugnacious 
nature, he was not a man to conceal his opinions. He under¬ 
took to enlighten the ignorance and to correct the misrepresen¬ 
tations of his country prevalent abroad. He wrote letters, 
pamphlets, and books in defence of America. Three of his 
novels written abroad — “The Bravo,” “The Heidenmauer,” 
and “The Headsman”, — were designed to exalt republican in¬ 
stitutions, and to apply American principles to European con- 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER . 


129 


ditions. The effect of all this can be easily imagined. The 
information he volunteered to Europe, and especially to Eng¬ 
land, was received ungraciously. His independent and ag¬ 
gressive spirit provoked opposition; his works were harshly 
criticised, and he himself was subject to misrepresentation and 
detraction. 

In 1833 Cooper returned to America. After a brief sojourn 
in New York, he purchased his father’s old estate at Coopers- 
town, and made that place his residence for the rest of his life. 
His childhood recollections were dear to him; and in the midst 
of the lovely scenery about Otsego Lake he found a grateful 
repose for the prosecution of his literary work. But his life 
was not destined to flow on undisturbed. His long residence 
abroad, in contact with the repose and culture of the Old 
World, had wrought greater changes in him than he was con¬ 
scious of. He no longer found himself in sympathy with the 
eager, bustling, restless life of America. He failed to appre¬ 
ciate the sublimity of the conflict which was rapidly subduing 
a magnificent continent. Without prudence in concealing his 
sentiments, he proceeded to tell his countrymen what he thought 
of them. Their restless energy he characterized as sordid 
greed for gold. He found fault with what he considered their 
lack of taste, their coarseness of manners, and their provincial 
narrowness. With inconsiderate valor he rushed into news¬ 
paper controversies. In short, while cherishing a deep affec¬ 
tion for his country, he exhausted almost every means for 
achieving a widespread unpopularity. It speedily came; and 
no other American writer was ever so generally and so venom¬ 
ously assailed. 

But meekness was no part of Cooper’s character. He was 
unwilling to rest under reckless and malicious misrepresenta¬ 
tion. Accordingly he instituted many suits for libel against 
prominent papers in New York, including the Albany Evening 
Journal, edited by Thurlow Weed, and The Tribune , edited by 
Horace Greeley. With the aid of his nephew, who was a law¬ 
yer, Cooper conducted the prosecutions himself with relentless 


130 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


energy, and showed himself as effective in an oral address be¬ 
fore a jury as in his writings before the public. It is remark¬ 
able that in every instance in which he pleaded his own cause 
he got a verdict awarding him damages. 

In 1839 he published his “History of the United States 
Navy.” It was a subject in which he had long been interested, 
and for which he possessed special fitness. Apart from his 
naval experience and his skill as a narrator, he possessed the 
sterling integrity of character that rendered him painstaking 
and impartial. For the period it covers, the history is not 
likely to be superseded. But it was impossible that such a 
work should please everybody. It gave offence in England 
by setting forth too prominently her numerous defeats upon the 
sea. It was accordingly attacked with great vigor in some of 
the leading British reviews. In this country its judicial tone 
failed to satisfy the partisans of some of our naval heroes. 
The newspapers were generally unfriendly, and the work was 
criticised with great injustice. But malicious misrepresenta¬ 
tion Cooper answered, as usual, with a suit for libel, in which 
he was almost invariably successful. At last he fairly became 
a terror to editors — a class not easily frightened. 

The period between 1840 and 1850 was one of great literary 
activity. The motives inspiring this activity were not such, in 
part at least, as to promise the best results for art. Cooper 
had lost in speculation, and found it necessary to increase his 
resources. He had a good many things to say to the American 
public in his character as censor. The didactic element be¬ 
came more prominent in his works. As a result, most of the 
seventeen novels produced in the decade referred to add but 
little to his fame. To this statement, however, there are sev¬ 
eral noteworthy exceptions. In 1840 appeared “The Path-» 
finder,” and the following year “The Deerslayer,” — two works 
that rank with the best of his productions. “The Deerslayer” 
completed the Leatherstocking series. Following the life of 
Natty Bumppo, and not the order of their composition, this 
series is as follows: “The Deerslayer,” in which Leather- 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 


131 

stocking appears in his youth; “The Last of the Mohicans” 
and “The Pathfinder,” in which we see him in the maturity of 
his powers; “The Pioneers” and “The Prairie,” in which are 
portrayed his old age and death. Cooper counted these works 
as his best. “ If anything from the pen of the writer of these 
romances,” he saicl in his old age, “is at all to outlive himself, 
it is unquestionably the series of the ‘Leatherstocking Tales.’ 
To say this is not to predict a very lasting reputation for the 
series itself, but simply to express the belief that it will out¬ 
last any or all of the works from the same hand. ” Among the 
other works of this period, which can only be named, are “The 
Two Admirals,” “Wing-and-Wing,” “Wyandotte,” “Afloat and 
Ashore,” “The Redskins,” and “The Ways of the Hour.” 

The closing years of Cooper’s life were comparatively se¬ 
rene. The storm of criticism and detraction, against which 
he had long contended, had in large measure abated. He was 
growing again in favor with his countrymen; and his own 
feelings, as opposition relaxed, subsided into a calmer and 
kindlier mood. At last disease laid its wasting hand upon 
his strong frame. It turned into an incurable dropsy. When 
the physician told him there was no longer any hope, he re¬ 
ceived the announcement with the manly courage that had 
characterized him all through life. He gave up the literary 
projects he was fondly cherishing, and spent his last days in 
the cheerful resignation of Christian faith. The end came 
Sept. 14, 1851, on the eve of his sixty-second birthday. 

There is no more heroic character in the history of our 
literature. Cooper was cast in a large and rugged mould. 
He had deep convictions ard a strong will; and hence he was 
often impatient of opposition, obstinate in his opinions, and 
brusque in his manners. He never acquired, and perhaps 
never cared to acquire, a polished deference to the views of 
others. He did not usually make a favorable impression on 
first acquaintance. But these defects were only on the surface. 
He was frank, honest, fearless, large-hearted; and among those 
who knew him best, he inspired a deep and loyal affection. 


132 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


He could not be tempted to sacrifice principle, to scheme for 
reputation, to stoop to anything mean and low. 

Cooper has often been called “ the American Scott; ” and 
the title, though displeasing to him, is not wholly undeserved. 
He has described the scenery and manners of his native country 
with a passion and power scarcely inferior to what is found in 
the romances of the great Scotchman. He has thrown over 
the pioneer life of America something of the same glamour 
with which “ the Wizard of the North ” has invested the mediae¬ 
val life of Europe. There are points of striking resemblance 
in the characters of these two great writers. They belonged 
to the same type of strong manhood. They were alike chival¬ 
rous and patriotic. With abounding physical strength, they 
rejoiced in the companionship of the woods and mountains. 
Their hearts were open to the charms of natural scenery. They 
were both, to borrow a term from mental science, objective rather 
than subjective in their habits of thought; and thus it happens 
that instead of profound psychological studies, they have given 
us glowing descriptions and thrilling narratives. 

Cooper’s works do not exhibit a high degree of literary art. 
His novels, like those of Scott, are characterized by largeness 
rather than by delicacy. He painted on a large canvas with a 
heavy brush. He worked with great rapidity; and as a nat¬ 
ural consequence we miss all refinement of style. He is often 
slovenly, and sometimes incorrect. The conversations, which 
he introduces freely, are seldom natural, often bombastic, and 
generally tiresome. His plots are usually defective. His 
novels are made up of narratives more or less closely con¬ 
nected, but not forming necessary parts in the development of 
a dramatic story. With some notable exceptions, his charac¬ 
ters are rather wooden, and move very much like automatons. 
They are continually doing things without any apparent or 
sufficient reason. His women belong to the type which is 
made up, to use his own phrase, “ of religion and female deco¬ 
rum.” They are insipid, helpless, vague — so limited by a 
narrow and conventional decorum as to be wholly uninterest- 


JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 


33 


ing. They rarely say anything or do anything that shows the 
true womanly spirit of devotion, helpfulness, and self-sacrifice. 

These are faults that are palpable and acknowledged. What, 
then, are the excellences which, triumphing over these serious 
drawbacks, still render Cooper one of the most popular of 
authors ? First, he had the power of graphic description. 
Without catching the spiritual significance of nature, he yet 
presented its various forms with extraordinary vividness. “ If 
Cooper,” said Balzac, “ had succeeded in the painting of char¬ 
acter to the same extent that he did in the painting of the 
phenomena of nature, he would have uttered the last word of 
our art.” 

But above this and above every other quality is Cooper’s 
power as a narrator. It is here that his genius manifests itself 
in its full power. His best novels are made up of a succession 
of interesting or exciting events, which he narrates with su¬ 
preme art. We realize every detail, and often follow the story 
with breathless interest. Cooper is an author, not for literary 
critics, but for general readers. In the words of Bryant, “ he 
wrote for mankind at large; hence it is that- he has earned a 
fame wider than any author of modern times-. The creations 
of his genius shall survive through centuries to come, and 
perish only with our language.” 


134 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 

Great genius is not always associated with exalted char¬ 
acter. There is much in the life of Pope, of Burns, and of 
Byron that we cannot approve of. So far as their works reflect 
their moral obliquities, we are forced to make abatements in 
our praise. It is greatly to the credit of American literature 
that its leading representatives have been men of excellent 
character. Dissolute genius has not flourished on our soil. 
At the funeral of Bryant, it was truthfully said, “It is the 
glory of this man that his character outshone even his great 
talent and his large fame.” In a poem “To Bryant on his 
Birthday,” Whittier beautifully said: — 

“We praise not now the poet’s art, 

The rounded beauty of his song; 

Who weighs him from his life apart 
Must do his nobler nature wrong.” 

The moral element in literature is of the highest impor¬ 
tance. It is a French maxim, often disregarded in France as 
elsewhere, that “Nothing is beautiful but truth.” 1 It is cer¬ 
tain that only truth is enduring. Whatever is false is sure, 
sooner or later, to pass away. Bryant gave beautiful expres¬ 
sion to the same idea in the oft-quoted lines from his poem, 
“The Battle-Field: ”— 

“Truth, crushed to e^rth, shall rise again; 

Th’ eternal years of God are hers; 

But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, 

And dies among his worshippers.” 

1 Rien n est beau que le vrai. 



< 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 














































WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


35 


This truth is often forgotten or neglected by our men of 
letters. Whatever is false in any way, whether in fact, princi¬ 
ple, sentiment, taste, cannot be permanent. This is the secret 
of the wrecks that strew the fields of literature. The enduring 
works of literature — those that men are unwilling to let die 
— are helpful to humanity. No art, however exquisite, can 
win lasting currency for error. Judged by this principle, the 
works of Bryant are enduring. They are not only admirable 
in literary art, but they are true in thought, sentiment, and 
taste. It may be said of him, as was said of James Thomson, 
his works contain — 

“ No line which, dying, he could wish to blot.” 

William Cullen Bryant was born at Cummington, Mass., 
Nov. 3, 1794. He came of sound Puritan stock, counting 
among his ancestors the Priscilla and John Alden immortal¬ 
ized by another descendant and poet. His father was a kind, 
cultured, and refined physician, who took more than ordinary 
interest in the training of his gifted son. In his “ Hymn to 
Death/’ the composition of which was interrupted by the de¬ 
cease of his father, the poet pays him a noble tribute: — 


“ This faltering verse, which thou 
Shalt not, as wont, o’erlook, is all I have 
To offer at thy grave — this — and the hope 
To copy thy example, and to leave 
A name of which the wretched shall not think 
As of an enemy’s, whom they forgive 
As all forgive the dead. Rest, therefore, thou 
Whose early guidance trained my infant steps — 
Rest, in the bosom of God, till the brief sleep 
Of death is over, and a happier life 
Shall dawn to waken thine insensible dust.” 


Bryant was a child of extraordinary precocity. At the age 
of sixteen months he knew all the letters of the alphabet. In 
the district school he distinguished himself as an almost infal- 


36 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


lible speller. He was prepared for college by the Rev. Moses 
Hallock of Plainfield. Of his Greek studies the poet says, 
“ I began with the Greek alphabet, passed to the declensions 
and conjugations, which I committed to memory, and was put 
into the Gospel of St. John. In two calendar months from 
the time of beginning with the powers of the Greek alphabet, 
I had read every book in the New Testament.” In October, 
1810, when in his sixteenth year, he entered the Sophomore 
class at Williams College, where he spent only one session. 
Though a diligent student, he did not find college life, owing 
to its meagre comforts, entirely to his taste. 

Bryant showed a rhyming propensity at an early age. He 
eagerly devoured whatever poetry fell into his hands, and 
early cherished the ambition to become a poet. Among his 
early efforts was a political satire against Jefferson and his 
party, inspired by the Embargo Act, — a measure that proved 
disastrous to many private interests in New England, and ex¬ 
cited strong feeling against the President. Bryant’s father 
was a prominent Federalist; and the young poet, not unnatu¬ 
rally, became a violent partisan. In “The Embargo,” written 
when he was thirteen, he rather uncourteously demanded Jef¬ 
ferson’s resignation: — 

“ Go, wretch, resign' the presidential chair, 

Disclose thy secret measures, foul or fair. 

Go search with curious eye for horrid frogs 
Mid the wild wastes of Louisianian bogs.” 

This satire, which had quite a success at the time, the poet 
afterwards would have gladly forgotten; but, when he subse¬ 
quently became a Democratic editor, the opposing press took 
care to see that he was occasionally reminded of it. 

Having failed for lack of means in completing his college 
course, he decided to study law, and entered the office of Judge 
Howe at Worthington. He afterwards completed his legal 
studies under William Baylies at West Bridgewater. His 
heart was never fully in the study of law, and his retiring dis- 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


137 


position did not promise a very brilliant career at the bar. 
Nevertheless, while in some measure indulging his fondness 
for poetry, he gave himself with commendable diligence to 
Blackstone and Coke. In a poetical effusion of the time, he 
recorded his experience as follows: — 

“ O’er Coke’s black letter, 

Trimming the lamp at eve, ’tis mine to pore, 

Well pleased to see the venerable sage 
Unlock his treasured wealth of legal lore; 

And I that loved to trace the woods before, 

And climb the hills, a playmate of the breeze, 

Have vowed to tune the rural lay no more, 

Have bid my useless classics sleep at ease, 

And left the race of bards to scribble, starve, and freeze.” 

He was admitted to the bar in 1815, and began practice at 
Plainfield; but, finding the outlook unpromising, he removed 
at the end of a year to Great Barrington. He met with a fair 
degree of success, but was deeply chagrined to find that law is 
not always synonymous with justice. He was far too conscien¬ 
tious to be careless and negligent; but, as we learn from a 
letter written at this period, his inclination was toward litera¬ 
ture. “You ask,” he writes to Mr. Baylies, his old teacher 
and friend, “whether I am pleased with my profession. Alas, 
sir, the muse was my first love; and the remains of that pas¬ 
sion, which is not cooled out nor chilled into extinction, will 
always, I fear, cause me to look coldly on the severe beauties 
of Themis. Yet I tame myself to its labors as well as I can, 
and have endeavored to discharge with punctuality and atten¬ 
tion such of the duties of my profession as I am capable of 
performing.” 

As was to be expected, nature and poetry were his refuge 
and comfort in the midst of the uncongenialities of his profes¬ 
sion. His love of nature was scarcely less strong than that 
of Wordsworth. His portrayal of natural beauty is a promi¬ 
nent characteristic of his poetry. “I was always,” he says, 
“from my earliest years, a delighted observer of external 


138 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


nature, — the splendors of a winter daybreak over the wide 
wastes of snow seen from our windows, the glories of the au¬ 
tumnal woods, the gloomy approaches of a thunderstorm, and 
its departure amid sunshine and rainbows, the return of the 
spring with its dowers, and the first snowfall of winter. The 
poets fostered this taste in me; and though at that time I rarely 
heard such things spoken of, it was none the less cherished in 
my secret mind.” In his poem, “ Green River,” he reveals the 
state of his mind at this period, though in a manner not very 
complimentary to his clients and associates at the bar: — 

“ Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men, 

And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, 

And mingle among the jostling crowd 
Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud, 

I often come to this quiet place 
To breath the airs that ruffle thy face, 

And gaze upon thee in silent dream; 

For in thy lonely and lovely stream 
An image of that calm life appears 
That won my heart in my greener years.” 

The time had now come for a more general recognition of 
Bryant’s poetic gifts. Genius is apt to be recognized sooner 
or later. In 1817 his father sent to the North American Review 
a copy of verses which the poet had written in his eighteenth 
year and laid away in his desk. “Ah, Phillips,” said the 
sceptical Dana to his associate editor on hearing the verses, 
“you have been imposed upon. No one on this side of the 
Atlantic is capable of writing such verse.” The poem in ques¬ 
tion was “ Thanatopsis,” the finest poem that had yet been 
produced in America, and one of the most remarkable pieces 
ever written at so early an age. “There was no mistaking th6 
quality of these verses,” says a biographer. “The stamp of 
genius was upon every line. No such verses had been made in 
America before. They soon found their way into the school¬ 
books of the country. They were quoted from the pulpit and 
upon the hustings. Their gifted author had a national fame 


WILLIAM CULLEM BRYANT. 


139 


before he had a vote, and in due time ‘ Thanatopsis » took the 
place which it still retains among the masterpieces of English 
didactic poetry.” 

Another of Bryant’s most exquisite poems belongs to this 
period. As he was on his way to Plainfield in December, 
1815, t0 see w h a t inducements it offered for the practice of 
his profession, he watched a solitary bird pursuing its course 
southward through the roseate evening sky. He was deeply 
impressed both by the beauty of the scene and by the lesson it 
brought to him in an hour of uncertainty and discouragement. 
That night he wrote “To a Waterfowl,” which some persons 
have thought the gem of all his works: — 

“ Whither, ’midst falling dew, 

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 

Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 
Thy solitary way ? 


There is a Power whose care 
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,— 
The desert and illimitable air, — 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 


He who, from zone to zone, 

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 

In the long way that I must tread alone, 

Will lead my steps aright.” 

At Great Barrington, Bryant met Miss Frances Fairchild, 
whose native goodness, frank and affectionate disposition, and 
excellent understanding, captivated his heart. Of course she 
became the inspiration of a good many poems, only one of 
which, however, the poet has cared to preserve: — 

“ Oh, fairest of the rural maids! 

Thy birth was in the forest shades; 

Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, 

Were all that met thine infant eye.” 



140 


A MERIC A At LITERATURE . 


They were married in 1821, and for nearly half a century 
she was “the good angel of his life.” The union was a sin¬ 
gularly happy one. The poet’s tender attachment is exhibited 
in several admirable poems. In “The Future Life” he asks 
the question so natural to deathless love: — 


“ How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps 
The disembodied spirits of the dead, 

When all of thee that time could wither sleeps 
And perishes among the dust we tread ? ” 


In “The Life that Is ” the poet celebrates the recovery of 
his wife from a serious illness in Italy in 1858: ■— 


“ Twice wert thou given me; once in thy fair prime, 

Fresh from the fields of youth, when first we met, 

And all the blossoms of that hopeful time 

Clustered and glowed where’er thy steps were set. 

And now, in thy ripe autumn, once again 

Given back to fervent prayers and yearnings strong, 

From the drear realm of sickness and of pain, 

Where we had watched, and feared, and trembled long.” 

She was indeed a helpmeet for him. “ I never wrote a 
poem,” he said, “that I did not repeat to her, and take her 
judgment upon it. I found its success with the public pre¬ 
cisely in proportion to the impression it made upon her. She 
loved my verses and judged them kindly, but did not like 
them all equally well.” His poem “October, 1866,” written 
upon the occasion of her death, is a threnody of great beauty. 

With his growing literary reputation, Bryant’s dissatisfac¬ 
tion with his profession increased. He was for several years 
a regular contributor to the United States Gazette , published in 
Boston, and wrote for it some of his best-known pieces, most 
notable of which is “A Forest Flymn.” A sonnet, which in 
his collected poems bears the title “Consumption,” had a 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


141 

deep personal meaning. It was written of his sister, a young 
woman of rare endowments and sweet disposition, who died 
in her twenty-second year: — 

“ Death should come 
Gently to one of gentle mould like thee, 

As light winds wandering through groves of bloom 
Detach the delicate blossom from the tree.” 

This sister, who had been the cherished companion of his 
childhood, is the theme of the well-known poem “ The Death 
of the Flowers.” The calm, mild days of late autumn, the 
season in which she died, reminded the true-hearted poet of 
her loss:— 

“ And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, 

The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side; 

In the cold, moist earth we laid her when the forests cast the leaf, 
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; 

Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, 

So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.” 

In 1825, through the influence of friends, Bryant moved to 
New York, gave up the practice of law, and fairly launched 
upon a literary career. He became editor of a monthly maga¬ 
zine at a salary of a thousand dollars a year — about twice 
as much, he tells us, as he received from the practice of his 
profession. But the magazine did not succeed, and the poet 
passed through a period of uncertainty and depression. As 
usual, he turned his experience into verse. In “The Journey 
of Life,” written at this time, we find the following pathetic 
lines: — 

“ Beneath the waning moon I walk at night, 

And muse on human life—for all around 
Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight, 

And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground, 

And broken gleams of brightness, here and there, 

Glance through, and leave unwarmed the deathlike air.” 


I 4 2 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


But amid the discouragements of this brief period he was 
sustained by the friendship and sympathy of Cooper, Kent, 
Verplanck, Morse, Halleck, and other congenial spirits. 

In .1826 Bryant became connected with the Evetiing Post , 
to which he gave more than half a century of his life. His 
career as a journalist is unsurpassed in the devotion with 
which he gave himself to the best interests of his country and 
of humanity. He set before himself a high ideal of editorial 
responsibility and journalistic excellence. His example and 
influence contributed no small part to the elevation of the 
metropolitan press. Though his sympathies in the main were 
with the Democratic party, he was never a .blind or unscrupu¬ 
lous partisan. Principle was always more to him than party. 
In his devotion to what he recognized as truth, he often took 
the unpopular side. He was independent and fearless. He 
developed the Evening Post into a great newspaper, which 
at last, after many laborious years, brought him an ample 
income. 

His prose was of a high order. He wrote slowly and with 
great care. He was particular even to the point of fastidious¬ 
ness in his diction. His style was simple, clear, direct, for¬ 
cible. ‘‘It seems to me, 7 ’ he said, “that in style we ought 
first, and above all things, to aim at clearness of expression. 
An obscure style is, of course, a bad style.” To a young man, 
who had asked his opinion of a piece of writing, he wrote: 
“ I observe that you have used several French expressions in 
your letter. I think if you will study the English language, 
that you will find it capable of expressing all the ideas you 
may have. I have always found it so; and in all I have writ¬ 
ten I do not recall an instance where I was tempted to use a 
foreign word but that, on searching, I have found a better one 
in my own language. Be simple, unaffected; be honest in 
your speaking and writing. Never use a long word where a 
short one will do as well. . . . The only true way to shine, 
even in this false world, is to be modest and unassuming. 
Falsehood may be a thick crust, but in the course of time 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


143 


Truth will find a place to break through. Elegance of lan¬ 
guage may not be in the power of us all, but simplicity and 
straightforwardness are.” These are the principles to which 
his own prose writing is conformed. 

As an editor and a man he had some little peculiarities. 
His violent temper he schooled himself to keep under perfect 
control. Though master of a scathing satire, he never allowed 
himself to be betrayed into an abuse of that dangerous faculty. 
His editorials were invariably written on the backs of letters 
and other pieces of waste paper. He used a quill pen, which 
he mended with a knife almost as old as himself. Indeed, he 
looked upon old servants, whether animate or inanimate, with 
a childlike tenderness. It is related of him that he clung to 
an old blue cotton umbrella long after its day of usefulness 
had passed; and a suggestion to replace his well-worn knife 
with a new one he would have discountenanced almost as an 
impertinence. 

Bryant was fond of travel, which brought him both mental 
and physical recreation. He was a hard worker; and from 
time to time, in his later years, relaxation became a necessity 
to him. Between the years 1834 and 1867 he made no fewer 
than six visits to the Old World. He not only visited the 
leading cities of Europe, but extended his travels to Egypt 
and Syria. His fame preceded him, and everywhere he was 
received with the marks of honor that were due him as a poet 
and a man. In Great Britain he met most of the illustrious 
authors and scholars of his day, including Wordsworth, Rogers, 
Moore, Hallam, Whewell, and Herschel. His letters to the 
Evening Post, descriptive of his travels abroad, were afterwards 
collected into a volume with the title “Letters of a Traveller.” 
His fine sense of propriety led him to exclude from his letters 
all reference to the distinguished people he met. In 1872 he 
visited Cuba and Mexico, where honors were lavishly bestowed 
upon him. 

By reason of his distinguished position in New York, Bryant 
was frequently called on for public addresses. This was espe- 


144 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


cially true when the life and character of some eminent person 
were to be commemorated. He delivered memorial addresses 
upon the artist Thomas Cole, upon Cooper, Irving, Halleck, 
and Verplanck. He was not an orator, but he delivered his 
carefully prepared discourses with impressive dignity. Though 
his treatment was always sympathetic, his estimates are singu¬ 
larly judicious, and his commemorative addresses are models 
of their kind. 

But whatever excellence Bryant attained in other spheres, 
he was above all a poet. Throughout his long and laborious 
career, he remained true to the muse he had wooed in his youth. 
But he was not a prolific poet. Sometimes his prosaic duties 
as a journalist left but little time for poetry. There are years 
in which he wrote little or nothing. Besides his lack of leisure 
and favorable surroundings, he was too conscientious a work¬ 
man to be satisfied with anything but the best he was capable 
of. To him poetry was a serious vocation, which called for the 
highest exercise of mind and soul. In “The Poet” he says: — 


“ Thou who wouldst w r ear the name 

Of poet mid thy brethren of mankind, 

And clothe in words of flame 

Thoughts that shall live within the general mind, 

Deem not the framing of a deathless lay 
The pastime of a drowsy summer day. 

But gather all thy powers, 

And wreak them on the verse that thou dost weave, 

And in thy lonely hours, 

At silent morning or at wakeful eve, 

While the warm current tingles through thy veins, 

Set forth the burning words in fluent strains.” 

In 1831 Bryant issued a small volume containing about 
eighty of his poems. His simple, honest nature revolted at 
everything like sham. He rejected what he called “striking 
novelties of expression; ” and he had no patience with the re¬ 
mote allusions or hazy diction, to which it is difficult to attach 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


145 


a definite meaning. “To me it seems,” he said, “that one 
of the most important requisites for a great poet is a luminous 
style. The elements of poetry lie in natural objects, in the 
vicissitudes of human life, in the emotions of the human heart, 
and the relation of man to man. He who can present them 
in combinations and lights which at once affect the mind with 
a deep sense of their truth and beauty is the poet for his own 
age and the ages that succeed it.” To these principles all his 
poetry is conformed. 

Bryant wished to have his poems published also in Eng¬ 
land; and, though unacquainted with him at the time, he so¬ 
licited Irving’s influence and aid. Irving, who had a genuine 
admiration for Bryant’s poetry, interested himself in the enter¬ 
prise, secured a publisher, and, to give the volume some degree 
of prestige, he appeared as editor, and prefixed a dedicatory 
letter addressed to Samuel Rogers. This act of disinterested 
kindness was admirable, and called forth Bryant’s grateful ap¬ 
preciation. But it subsequently led to some correspondence 
not entirely free from asperity. In the poem, “ Song of Mari¬ 
on’s Men,” occur the lines, — 

“And the British foeman trembles 
When Marion’s name is heard.” 

These lines were objected to by the London publisher as 
reflecting upon British valor, and as likely, therefore, to preju¬ 
dice the British public. Accordingly Irving judged it best to 
change the first line into — 


“ The foeman trembles in his camp.” 

Under the circumstances there was but little room to find 
fault with this alteration. But Leggett, editor of the Plain- 
dealer and intimate friend of Bryant’s, denounced the change 
as “literary pusillanimity.” This severe and unnecessary 
charge called forth letters from both Irving and Bryant; but 
the ill-feeling engendered at the moment proved only a ripple 


146 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


on the surface of their profound appreciation of each other’s 
ability and character. 

Bryant’s poetry has a quality of its own, as distinct and 
recognizable as that of Corot’s paintings. Beyond all other 
verse produced in America, it has what maybe called a classic 
quality. It is clear, calm, elevated, strong. Many of his 
poems, in their finished form and chastened self-restraint, re¬ 
semble Greek statuary. His poetry is pervaded by a reflective, 
ethical tone. The objects of nature, which he dwells on with 
untiring fondness, convey to his mind some beautiful lesson 
of hope, comfort, courage. He looks, for instance, upon the 
North Star, and in its beams he beholds — 

“ A beauteous type of that unchanging good, 

That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray 

The voyager of time should shape his heedful way.” 

Though there are few that speak in praise 6f the wild, 
stormy month of March, he bids it a cordial welcome: — 

“ Thou bringst the hope of those calm skies, 

And that soft time of sunny showers, 

When the wide bloom, on earth that lies, 

Seems of a brighter world than ours.” 

He does not sigh at the increasing speed with which the 
years pass by: — 

“ Then haste thee, Time, — ’tis kindness all 
That speeds thy winged feet so fast; 

The pleasures stay not till they pall, 

And all thy pains are quickly past. 

Thou fliest and bear’st aw : ay our w r oes, 

And as thy shadowy train depart, 

The memory of sorrow grows 
A lighter burden on the heart.” 

To those who lament the degeneracy of their time, and are 
filled with gloomy forebodings of the future, he says,— 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


14 7 


“ Oh, no ! a thousand cheerful omens give 
* Hope of yet happier days whose dawn is nigh. 

He who has tamed the elements, shall not live 
The slave of his own passions; he whose eye 
Unwinds the eternal dances of the sky, 

And in the abyss of brightness dares to span 
The sun’s broad circle, rising yet more high, 

In God’s magnificent works his will shall scan, 

And love and peace shall make their paradise with man.” 


Bryant’s poetry is not artificial. It sprang out of the depths 
of his soul; it is the natural expression of his deepest thoughts 
and feelings. It was inspired chiefly by the scenery, life, and 
history of his own country, — a fact that makes him pre-emi¬ 
nently an American poet. “He never, by any chance,” says 
Stedman, “affected passion or set himself to artificial song. 
He had the triple gift of Athene, ‘self-reverence, self-knowl¬ 
edge, self-control.’ He was incapable of pretending to rap¬ 
tures that he did not feel; and this places him far aboye a host 
of those who, without knowing it, hunt for emotions, and make 
poetry but little better than a trade.” 

Bryant crowned his long literary life with a translation of 
the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey.” The former was undertaken 
in 1865, when the poet was in his seventy-first year, and it was 
completed four years later. His vigorous health and disci¬ 
plined faculties had always enabled him to work with unusual 
regularity. He was never dependent on moments of happy 
inspiration. In translating Homer he set himself the task 
of forty lines a day. He found fault with the translations of 
Pope and Cowper, because of their lack of fidelity to the origi¬ 
nal. “I have sought to attain,” he says, “what belongs to the 
original, — a fluent narrative style which shall carry the reader 
forward without the impediment of unexpected inversions and 
capricious phrases, and in which, if he find nothing to stop at 
and admire, there will at least be nothing to divert his atten¬ 
tion from the story and characters of the poem, from the events 
related and the objects described.” Scarcely was the “Iliad ” 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


148 

finished, when he began the “Odyssey.” It was completed in 
two years. The entire translation, which was a credit to Amer¬ 
ican talent and scholarship, met with a cordial reception. It 
satisfied the high expectations that had preceded its appear¬ 
ance. In fidelity to the original, in its admirable style and 
diction, and in its successful reproduction of the heroic spirit, 
it surpasses, perhaps, all other translations. 

Besides his city residence, Bryant had two houses in the 
country, —one near the village of Roslyn, Long Island, com¬ 
manding an extensive prospect of land and water; the other, 
the old Bryant homestead at Cummington. He was accus¬ 
tomed, the latter part of his life, to spend about one-half his' 
time at these country homes. He took great interest in beau¬ 
tifying them, and was “aye sticking in a tree.” At his home 
near Roslyn, to which he gave the name of “ Cedarmere, ” he 
did some of his best work. It was the abode of simplicity and 
taste, to which he welcomed many friends and distinguished 
guests. 

Bryant was a deeply religious man; but he attached more 
importance to reverence, righteousness, and charity than to 
any ecclesiastical creed. Though brought up in the Calvin- 
istic faith, his later theological sympathies were with the Uni¬ 
tarians. “The religious man,” he wrote near the end of his 
life, “finds in his relations to his Maker a support to his 
virtue which others cannot have. He acts always with a con¬ 
sciousness that he is immediately under the eyes of a Being 
who looks into his heart, and sees his inmost thoughts, and 
discerns the motives which he is half unwilling to acknowl¬ 
edge even to himself. He feels that he is under the inspira¬ 
tion of a Being who is only pleased with right motives and 
purity of intention, and who is displeased with whatever is 
otherwise. He feels that the approbation of that Being is 
infinitely more to be valued than the applause of all mankind, 
and his displeasure more to be feared and more to be avoided 
than any disgrace which he might sustain from his brethren 
of mankind.” He had a profound reverence for the character 


WILLIAM CULLEM BRYANT. 149 

and teachings of Christ, whose sweetness and beneficence he 
exemplified in his own life with advancing years. 

The rich, full life of Bryant continued far beyond the 
allotted period of man; but the end came suddenly. In the 
latter part of May, 1878, he delivered an address at the un¬ 
veiling of a statue to Mazzini, the Italian patriot, in Central 
Park. He had not been feeling well for several days, and 
exposure to the sun proved too much for his strength. On en¬ 
tering the house of a friend near the Park, he suddenly lost 
consciousness, and, falling backward, struck his head violently 
on the stone platform of the front steps. The terrific blow 
caused concussion of the brain, from which he died June 12, 
in the eighty-fourth year of his age. “ By reason of his vener¬ 
able age,” wrote Dr. J. G. Holland, “his unquestioned genius, 
his pure and lofty character, his noble achievement in letters, 
his great influence as a public journalist, and his position as 
a pioneer in American literature, William Cullen Bryant had 
become, without a suspicion of the fact in his own modest 
thought, the principal citizen of the great republic. By all 
who knew him, and by millions who never saw him, he was 
held in the most affectionate reverence. When he died, there¬ 
fore, and was buried from sight, he left a sense of personal 
loss in all worthy American hearts.” 


50 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


EDGAR ALLAN POE. 

It is difficult to form a just and satisfactory estimate of 
Edgar Allan Poe. His genius is unquestionable; but then it 
was associated with poor judgment and a faulty character. It 
is not easy to get at the facts. Like Pope, he did not hesitate 
to mislead and mystify his readers. His biographers are gen¬ 
erally either friendly or hostile partisans. If the latter paint 
his character and career in colors so dark as to be almost in¬ 
credible, the former can at best only extenuate and apologize 
for his mistakes and vices. 

Poe occupies a peculiar place in American literature. He 
has been called our most interesting literary man. He stands 
alone for his intellectual brilliancy and his lamentable failure 
to use it wisely. No one can read his works intelligently with¬ 
out being impressed with his extraordinary ability. Whether 
poetry, criticism, or fiction, he shows extraordinary power in 
them all. But the moral element in life is the most impor¬ 
tant, and in this Poe was lacking. With him truth was not 
the first necessity. He allowed his judgment to be warped by 
friendship, and apparently sacrificed sincerity to the vulgar 
desire of gaining popular applause. He gambled and drank 
liquor; and for these reasons chiefly, though the fact has been 
denied by some, he was unable for any considerable length of 
time to maintain himself in a responsible or lucrative* posi¬ 
tion. Fortune repeatedly opened to him an inviting door; but 
he constantly and ruthlessly abused her kindness. 

Edgar Allan Poe descended from an honorable ancestry. 
His grandfather, David Poe, was a Revolutionary hero, over 
whose grave, as he kissed the sod, Lafayette pronounced the 
words, “Lei repose un coeur noble.” His father, an impulsive 



t 


EDGAR ALLAN POE 























EDGAR ALLAN POE. 


51 


and wayward youth, became enamored of an English actress, 
and forsook the bar for the stage. The couple were duly mar¬ 
ried, and acted with moderate success in the principal towns 
and cities of the country. It was during an engagement at 
Boston that the future poet was born, Jan. 19, 1809. 1 Two 
years later the wandering pair were again in Richmond, where 
within a few weeks of each other they died in poverty. They 
left three children, the second of whom, the subject of this 
sketch, was kindly received into the home of Mr. John Allan, 
a wealthy merchant of the city. 

The early training of Poe may be taken as a very good 
example of how not to bring up children. The boy was 
remarkably pretty and precocious; and his foster-parents al¬ 
lowed no opportunity to pass without showing him off. After 
dinner in this elegant and hospitable home, he was frequently 
placed upon the table to drink to the health of the guests, 
and to deliver short declamations, for which he had inherited 
a decided talent. He was flattered and fondled and indulged 
in every way. Is it strange that under this training he ac¬ 
quired a taste for strong drink, and became opinionated and 
perverse ? 

In 1815 Mr. Allan went to England with his family to 
spend several years, and there placed the young Edgar at 
school in an ancient and historic town, which has since been 
swallowed up in the overflow of the great metropolis. The 
venerable appearance and associations of the town, as may be 
learned from the autobiographic tale of “William Wilson,”, 
made a deep and lasting impression on the imaginative boy. 

After five years spent in this English school, where he 
learned to read Latin and to speak French, he was brought 
back to America, and placed in a Richmond academy. With¬ 
out much diligence in study, his brilliancy v enabled him to 
take high rank in his classes. His skill in verse-making and 

1 Different dates are given, and Baltimore is frequently mentioned as the place 
of his birth; but the matter may be regarded as finally settled by Woodberry in his 
excellent biography of Poe. 


152 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


in debate made him prominent in the school. He excelled in 
athletic exercises, especially in running and jumping; and it 
is related of him that on one occasion, stimulated perhaps by 
the aquatic feats of Byron, he swam a distance of six miles 
against a strong tide without much apparent fatigue. But 
he was not generally popular among his fellow-students. 
Conscious of his superior intellectual endowments (which, 
however, as is usual in such cases, were not as great as he 
imagined), he was disposed to live apart, and to indulge in 
moody reverie. According to the testimony of one who knew 
him well at this time, he was “ self-willed, capricious, inclined 
to be imperious, and though of generous impulses, not steadily 
kind, or even amiable.” 

In 1826, at the age of seventeen, Poe matriculated at the 
University of Virginia, and entered the schools of ancient and 
modern languages. The university has never been noted for 
rigid discipline or Puritanic morals. Its laxity in both partic¬ 
ulars chimed in well with Poe’s natural impulses. Though 
he attended his classes with a fair degree of regularity, he was 
not slow in joining the fast set that spent more time in drink¬ 
ing and gambling than in study. Gambling especially became 
a passion, and he lost heavily. His reckless expenditures led 
Mr. Allan to visit Charlottesville for the purpose of inquiring 
into his habits. The result was not satisfactory; and, though 
his adopted son won high honors in Latin and French, Mr. 
Allan refused to allow him to return to the university after 
the close of his first session, and placed him in his own count¬ 
ing-room. 

It is not difficult to foresee the next step in the drama 
before us. Many a genius of far greater self-restraint and 
moral earnestness has found the routine of business almost 
intolerably irksome. With high notions of his own ability, 
and with a temper rebellious to all restraint, Poe soon broke 
away from his new duties, and started out to seek his fortune. 
He went to Boston; and, in eager search for fame and money, 
he resorted to the unpromising expedient of publishing in 


EDGAR ALLAN POE. 


153 


1827 a small volume of poems. As viewed in the light of his 
subsequent career, the volume gives here and there an intima¬ 
tion of the author’s genius; but, as was to be expected, it 
attracted but little attention, and disappointed all his ambi¬ 
tious hopes. He was soon reduced to financial straits; and, in 
his pressing need, he enlisted, under an assumed name, in 
the United States army. He served at Fort Moultrie, and 
afterwards at Fortress Monroe^ He rose to the rank of ser¬ 
geant-major; and, according to the testimony of his superiors, 
he was “exemplary in his deportment, prompt and faithful 
in the discharge of his duties.” 

In 1829, when his heart was softened by the death of his 
wife, Mr. Allan became reconciled to his adopted but way¬ 
ward son. Through his influence, young Poe secured a dis¬ 
charge from the army, and obtained an appointment as cadet 
at West Point. He entered the military academy July 1, 1830, 
and, as usual, established a reputation for brilliancy and 
folly. He was reserved, exclusive, discontented, and censo¬ 
rious. As described by a classmate, “He was an accom¬ 
plished French scholar, and had a wonderful aptitude for 
mathematics, so that he had no difficulty in preparing his 
recitations in his class, and in obtaining the highest marks in 
these departments. He was a devourer of books; but his 
great fault was his neglect of and apparent contempt for mili¬ 
tary duties. His wayward and capricious temper made him 
at times utterly oblivious or indifferent to the ordinary rou¬ 
tine of roll-call, drills, and guard duties. These habits subr 
jected him often to arrest and punishment, and effectually 
prevented his learning or discharging the duties of a soldier.” 
The final result is obvious. At the end of six months, he was 
summoned before a court-martial, tried, and expelled. 

Before leaving West Point, Poe arranged for the publica¬ 
tion of a volume of poetry, which appeared in New York in 
1831. This volume, to which, the students of the academy 
subscribed liberally in advance, is noteworthy in several par¬ 
ticulars. In a prefatory letter Poe lays down the poetic prin- 


154 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


ciple to which he endeavored to conform his productions. It 
throws much light on his poetry by exhibiting the ideal at 
which he aimed. “A poem, in my opinion,” he says, “is op¬ 
posed to a work of science by having for its immediate object 
pleasure, not truth; to romance, by having for its object an 
indefinite instead of a definite pleasure, being a poem only 
so far as this object is attained; romance presenting percep¬ 
tible images with definite, poetry with ///definite sensations, 
to which end music is an essential , since the comprehension of 
sweet sound is our most indefinite conception. Music, when 
combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry; music without 
the idea is simply music; the idea without the music is prose 
from its very definiteness.” Music embodied in a golden mist 
of thought and sentiment — this is Poe’s poetic ideal. 

As illustrative of his musical rhythm, the following lines 
from “ A 1 Aaraaf ” may be given: — 

“ Ligeia ! Ligeia! 

My beautiful one! 

Whose harshest idea 
Will to melody run, 

O ! is it thy will 

On the breezes to toss ? 

Or, capriciously still, 

Like the lone albatross, 

Incumbent on night 
(As she on the air) 

To keep watch with delight 
On the harmony there ? ” 

Or take the last stanza of “Israfel— 


If I could dwell 
Where Israfel 

Hath dwelt, and he where I, 

He might not sing so wildly w T ell 
A mortal melody, 

While a bolder note than this might swell 
From my lyre within the sky.” 


EDGAR ALLAN POE. 


55 


The two principal poems in the volume under considera¬ 
tion— “A 1 Aaraaf” and “Tamerlane” — were obvious imita¬ 
tions of Moore and Byron. The beginning of “A 1 Aaraaf,” 
for example, might easily be mistaken for an extract from 
“Lalla Rookh,” so similar are the rhythm and rhyme: — 

“ O ! nothing earthly save the ray 
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty’s eye, 

As in those gardens where the day 
Springs from the gems of Circassy — 

O ! nothing earthly save the thrill 
Of melody in woodland rill — 

Or (music of the passion-hearted) 

Joy’s voice so peacefully departed 
That like the murmur in the shell, 

Its echo dwelleth and will dwell — 

Oh, nothing of the dross of ours — 

Yet all the beauty-—all the flowers 
That list our Love, and deck our bowers — 

Adorn yon world afar, afar — 

The wandering star.” 

In this poem there is a further imitation of Moore in the 
copious annotations, in which Poe tries to appear learned by 
the cheap trick of mentioning obscure names, and quoting 
scholarly authorities at second-hand. It indicates his singu¬ 
lar lack of moral integrity that he kept up this evil practice 
all through his literary career. 

After his expulsion from West Point, Poe appears to have 
gone to Richmond; but the long-suffering of Mr. Allan, who 
had married again and was expecting a lineal descendant, was 
at length exhausted. He refused to extend any further recog¬ 
nition to one whom he had too much reason to regard as un¬ 
appreciative and undeserving. Accordingly, Poe was finally 
thrown upon his own resources for a^livelihood. He settled in 
Baltimore, where he had a few acquaintances and friends, and 
entered upon that literary career which is without parallel in 
American literature for its achievements, its vicissitudes, and 


! 5 6 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


its sorrows. With no qualification for the struggle of life 
other than intellectual brilliancy, he bitterly atoned, through 
disappointment and suffering, for his defects of temper, lack 
of judgment, and habits of intemperance. 

In 1833 the Baltimore Saturday Visitor offered a prize of 
one hundred dollars for the best prose story. This prize Poe 
won by his tale “A MS. Found in a Bottle.” This success 
may be regarded as the first step in his literary career. The 
ability displayed in this fantastic tale brought him to the no¬ 
tice of John P. Kennedy, Esq., who at once befriended him in 
his distress, and aided him in his literary projects. He gave 
Poe, whom he found in extreme poverty, free access to his 
table, and, to use his own words, “ brought him up from the 
very verge of despair. ” 

After a year or more of hack work in Baltimore, Poe, 
through the influence of his kindly patron, obtained employ¬ 
ment on the Southern Literary Messenger , and removed to Rich¬ 
mond in 1835. Here he made a brilliant start; life seemed to 
open before him full of promise. In a short time he was pro¬ 
moted to the editorship of the Messenger , and by his tales, 
poems, and especially his reviews, he made that periodical 
very popular. In a twelvemonth he increased its subscription 
list from seven hundred to nearly five thousand, and made the 
magazine a rival of the Knickerbocker and the New Englander. 
He was loudly praised by the Southern press, and was gener¬ 
ally regarded as one of the foremost writers of the day. 

In the Messenger , Poe began his work as a critic. It is 
hardly necessary to say that his criticism was of the slashing 
kind. He became little short of a terror. With a great deal 
of critical acumen and a fine artistic sense, he made relentless 
war on pretentious mediocrity, and rendered good service*to 
American letters by enforcing higher literary standards. He 
was lavish in his charges of plagiarism, even when stealing 
himself; and he made use of cheap, second-hand learning in 
order to ridicule the pretended scholarship of others. He often 
affected an irritating and contemptuous superiority. But with 


EDGAR ALLAN FOE. 


57 


all his humbug and superciliousness, his critical estimates, in 
the main, have been sustained. 

The bright prospects before Poe were in a few months ruth¬ 
lessly blighted. Perhaps he relied too much on his genius 
and reputation. It is easy for men of ability to overrate their 
importance. Regarding himself, perhaps, as indispensable to 
the Messenger , he may have relaxed in vigilant self-restraint. 
It has been claimed that he resigned the editorship in order 
to accept a more lucrative offer in New York; but the sad 
truth seems to be that he was dismissed on account of his 
irregular habits. 

After eighteen months in Richmond, during which he had 
established a brilliant literary reputation, Poe was again turned 
adrift. He went to New York, where his story of “Arthur 
Gordon Pym ” was published by the Harpers in 1838. It is 
a tale of the sea, written with the simplicity of style and cir¬ 
cumstantiality of detail that give such charm to the works of 
Defoe. In spite of the fact that Cooper and Marryat had 
created a taste for sea-tales, the story of “Arthur Gordon 
Pym 99 never became popular. It is superabundant in horrors 
— a vein that had a fatal fascination for the morbid genius of 
Poe. 

The same year in which this story appeared, Poe removed 
to Philadelphia, where he soon found work on The Gentleman*s 
Magazine , recently established by the comedian Burton. He 
soon rose to the position of editor-in-chief, and his talents 
proved of great value to the magazine. His tales and criti¬ 
cism rapidly increased its circulation. But the actor, whose 
love of justice does him great credit, could not approve of his 
editor’s sensational criticism. In a letter written when their 
cordial relations were interrupted for a time, Burton speaks 
very plainly and positively: “I cannot permjt the magazine 
to be made a vehicle for that sort of severity which you think 
is so ‘ successful with the mob. ’ I am truly much less anx¬ 
ious about making a monthly ‘ sensation ’ than I am upon the 
point of fairness. ... You say the people love havoc. I 


i5« 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


think they love justice.” Poe did not profit by his experience 
at Richmond, and after a few months he was dismissed for 
neglect of duty. 

He was out of employment but a short time. In Novem¬ 
ber, 1840, Graham's Magazine was established, and Poe ap¬ 
pointed editor. At no other period of his life did his genius 
appear to better advantage. Thrilling stories and trenchant 
criticisms followed one another in rapid succession. His arti¬ 
cles on autography and cryptology attracted widespread atten¬ 
tion. In the former he attempted to illustrate character by 
the handwriting; and in the latter he maintained that human 
ingenuity cannot invent a cipher that human ingenuity cannot 
resolve. In the course of a few months the circulation of the 
magazine (if its own statements may be trusted) increased from 
eight thousand to forty thousand — a remarkable circulation for 
the time. 

His criticism was based on the rather violent assumption 
“that, as a literary people, we are one vast perambulating 
humbug.” In most cases, literary prominence, he asserted, 
was achieved “by the sole means of a blustering arrogance, 
or of busy wriggling conceit, or of the most bare-faced plagia¬ 
rism, or even through the simple immensity of its assump¬ 
tions.” These fraudulent reputations he undertook, “with the 
help of a hearty good will ” (which no one will doubt), to 
“tumble down.” But, in the fury of this general destruction, 
he did not allow himself to become utterly indiscriminate and 
merciless. He admitted that there were a few who rose above 
absolute “idiocy.” “Mr. Morris has written good songs. 
Mr. Bryant is not all fool. Mr. Willis is not quite an ass. 
Mr. Longfellow will steal; but, perhaps, he cannot help it 
(for we have heard of such things), and then it must not.be 
denied that nil tetigit quod non ornavit .” But, in spite of reck¬ 
less and extravagant assertion, there was still too much acu¬ 
men and force in his reviews to allow them to be treated with 
indifference or contempt. 

In about eighteen months Poe’s connection with Graham 


EDGAR ALLA AT POE. 


159 


was dissolved. The reason has not been made perfectly clear; 
but, from what we already know, it is safe to charge it to Poe’s 
infirmity of temper or of habit. His protracted sojourn in 
Philadelphia was now drawing to a close. It had been the 
most richly productive, as well as the happiest, period of his 
life. For a time, sustained by appreciation and hope, he in a 
measure overcame his intemperate habits. Griswold, his much- 
abused biographer, has given us an interesting description of 
him and his home at this time: “His manner, except during 
his fits of intoxication, was very quiet and gentlemanly; he 
was usually dressed with simplicity and elegance; and when 
once he sent for me to visit him, during a period of illness 
caused by protracted and anxious watching at the side of his 
sick wife, I was impressed by the singular neatness and the air 
of refinement in his home. It was in a small house, in one 
of the pleasant and silent neighborhoods far from the centre 
of the town; and, though slightly and cheaply furnished, every¬ 
thing in it was so tasteful and so fitly disposed that it seemed 
altogether suitable for a man of genius.” 

It was during his residence in Philadelphia that Poe wrote 
his choicest stories. Among the masterpieces of this period 
are to be mentioned “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “Li- 
geia,” which he regarded as his best tale, “The Descent into 
the Maelstrom,” “The Murders of the Rue Morgue,” and 
“The Mystery of Marie Roget.” The general character of his 
tales may be inferred from their titles. Poe delighted in the 
weird, fantastic, dismal, horrible. There is no warmth of 
human sympathy, no moral consciousness, no lessons of prac¬ 
tical wisdom. His tales are the product of a morbid but 
powerful imagination. His style is in perfect keeping with 
his peculiar gifts. He had a highly developed artistic sense. 
By his air of perfect candor, his minuteness of detail, and his 
power of graphic description, he gains complete mastery over 
the soul, and leads us almost to believe the impossible. 
Within the limited range of his imagination (for he was by no 
means the universal genius he fancied himself to be), he is 
unsurpassed, perhaps, by any other American writer. 


i6o 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Poe’s career had now reached its climax, and after a time 
began its rapid descent. In 1844 he moved to New York, 
where for a year or two his life did not differ materially from 
what it had been in Philadelphia. He continued to write his 
fantastic tales, for which he was poorly paid, and to do edi¬ 
torial work, by which he eked out a scanty livelihood. He 
was employed by N. P. Willis for a few months on the Even¬ 
ing Mirror as sub-editor and critic, and was regularly “at his 
desk from nine in the morning till the paper went to press.” 
It was in this paper, Jan. 29, 1845, that his greatest poem, 
“The Raven,” was published with a flattering commendation 
by Willis. It laid hold of the popular fancy; and, copied 
throughout the length and breadth of the land, it met a recep¬ 
tion never before accorded to an American poem. Abroad 
its success was scarcely less remarkable and decisive. “This 
vivid writing,” wrote Mrs. Browning, “this power which is felt , 
has produced a sensation here in England. Some of my 
friends are taken by the fear of it, and some by the music. 
I hear of persons who are haunted by the ‘ Nevermore; ’ and 
an acquaintance of mine, who has the misfortune of pos¬ 
sessing a bust of Pallas, cannot bear to look at it in the 
twilight.” 

In 1845 Poe was associated with the management of the 
Broadway Journal , which in a few months passed entirely 
into his hands. He had long desired to control a periodical 
of his own, and in Philadelphia had tried to establish a mag¬ 
azine. But, however brilliant as an editor, he was not a man 
of administrative ability; and in three months he was forced 
to suspend publication for want of means. Shortly afterwards 
he published in Godey’s Lady's Book a series of critical papers 
entitled the “Literati of New York.” The T papers, usually 
brief, are gossipy, interesting, sensational, with an occasional 
lapse into contemptuous and exasperating severity. 

In the same year he published a tolerably complete edition 
of his poems in the revised form in which they now appear in 
his works. The volume contained nearly all the poems upon 


EDGAR ALLAN POE. 


161 


which his poetic fame justly rests. Among the poems that 
may be regarded as embodying his highest poetic achievement 
are “The Raven,” “Lenore,” “Ulalume,” “The Bells,” “An¬ 
nabel Lee,” “The Haunted Palace,” “The Conqueror Worm,” 
“The City in the Sea,” “Eulalie,” and “Israfel.” Rarely 
has so large a fame rested on so small a number of poems, and 
rested so securely. His range of themes, it will be noticed, 
is very narrow. As in his tales, he dwells in a weird, fantas¬ 
tic, or desolate region — usually under the shadow of death. 
He conjures up unearthly landscapes as a setting for his gloomy 
and morbid fancies. In “ The City in the Sea,” for example, 

“ There shrines and palaces and towers 
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!) 

Resemble nothing that is ours. 

Around, by lifting winds forgot, 

Resignedly beneath the sky 
The melancholy waters lie.” 

He conformed his poetic efforts to his theory that a poem 
should be short. He maintained that the phrase “ a long 
poem” “is simply a flat contradiction in terms.” His strong 
artistic sense gave him a firm mastery over form. He con¬ 
stantly uses alliteration, repetition, and refrain. These arti¬ 
fices form an essential part of “The Raven,” “Lenore,” and 
“ The Bells.” In his poems, as in his tales, Poe was less 
anxious to set forth an experience or a truth than to make an 
impression. His poetry aims at beauty in a purely artistic 
sense,, unassociated with truth or morals. It is singularly 
vague, unsubstantial, and melodious. Some of his poems — 
and precisely those in which his genius finds its highest ex¬ 
pression — defy complete analysis. They cannot be taken 
apart so that each thought and sentiment stands out clear to 
the understanding. “ Ulalume,” for instance, remains obscure 
after the twentieth perusal —- its meaning lost in a haze of mist 
and music. Yet these poems, when read in a sympathetic 
mood, never fail of their effect. They are genuine creations; 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


162 

and, as fitting expressions of certain mental states, they pos¬ 
sess an indescribable charm, something like the spell of in¬ 
strumental music. There is no mistaking his poetic genius. 
Though not the greatest, he is still the most original, of our 
poets, and has fairly earned the high esteem in which his gifts 
are held in America and Europe. 

During his stay in New York, Poe was often present in the 
literary gatherings of the metropolis. He was sometimes ac¬ 
companied by his sweet, affectionate, invalid wife, whom in her 
fourteenth year he had married in Richmond. According to 
Griswold, “ His conversation was at times almost supra-mortal 
in its eloquence. His voice was modulated with astonishing 
skill; and his large and variably expressive eyes looked repose 
or shot fiery tumult into theirs who listened, while his own face 
glowed, or was changeless in pallor, as his imagination quick¬ 
ened his blood or drew it back frozen to his heart. His im¬ 
agery was from the worlds which no mortals can see but with 
the vision of genius.” He exercised a strong fascination over 
women. “ To a sensitive and delicately nurtured woman,” wrote 
Mrs. Osgood, “ there was a peculiar and irresistible charm in 
the chivalric, graceful, and almost tender reverence with which 
he invariably approached all women who won his respect.” 
His writings are unstained by a single immoral sentiment. 

Toward the latter part of his sojourn in New York, the hand 
of poverty and want pressed upon him sorely. The failing 
health of his wife, to whom his tender devotion is beyond all 
praise, was a source of deep and constant anxiety. For a time 
he became an object of charity — a humiliation that was ex¬ 
ceedingly galling to his delicately sensitive nature. To a sym¬ 
pathetic friend, who lent her kindly aid in this time of need, 
we owe a graphic but pathetic picture of Poe’s home shortly 
before the death of his almost angelic wife. “ There was no 
clothing on the bed, which was only straw, but a snow-white 
counterpane and sheets. The weather was cold, and the sick 
lady had the dreadful chills that accompany the hectic fever of 
consumption. She lay on the straw bed, wrapped in her hus- 


EDGAR ALLAN POE. 


163 

band’s great coat, with a large tortoise-shell cat in her bosom. 
The wonderful cat seemed conscious of her great usefulness. 
The coat and the cat were the, sufferer’s only means of warmth, 
except as her husband held her hands, and her mother her 
feet.” She died Jan. 30, 1847. 

After this event Poe was never entirely himself again. The 
immediate effect of his bereavement was complete physical and 
mental prostration, from which he recovered only with diffi¬ 
culty. His subsequent literary work deserves scarcely more 
than mere mention. His “ Eureka,” an ambitious treatise, the 
immortality of which he confidently predicted, was a disap¬ 
pointment and failure. He tried lecturing, but with only mod¬ 
erate success. His correspondence at this time reveals a 
broken, hysterical, hopeless man. In his weakness, loneliness, 
and sorrow, he resorted to stimulants with increasing fre¬ 
quency. Their terrible work was soon done. On his return 
from a visit to Richmond, he stopped in Baltimore, where he 
died from the effects of drinking, Oct. 7, 1849. 

Thus ended the tragedy of his life. It is as depressing as 
one of his own morbid, fantastic tales. His career leaves a 
painful sense of incompleteness and loss. With greater self- 
discipline, how much more he might have accomplished for 
himself and for others ! Gifted, self-willed, proud, passionate, 
with meagre moral sense, he forfeited success by his perver¬ 
sity and his vices. From his own character and experience 
he drew the unhealthy and pessimistic views to which he has 
given expression in the maddening poem, “ The Conqueror 
Worm.” And if there were not happier and nobler lives, we 
might well say with him, as we stand by his grave : — 

“ Out — out are the lights — out all ! 

And over each quivering form, 

The curtain, a funeral pall, 

Comes down with the rush of a storm, 

And the angels, all pallid and wan, 

Uprising, unveiling, affirm 
That the play is the tragedy ‘ Man,’ 

And its hero the Conqueror Worm.” 


164 


AMERICAN- LITERATURE. 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 

In literature the historian records less of action than of 
thinking. Literature is a product of thought. The biography 
of many great writers is a story of “ plain living and high 
thinking.” This is pre-eminently true of Ralph Waldo Emer¬ 
son. His outward life was uneventful. He filled no high 
civic or political station ; he led no great reformatory move¬ 
ment that changed the Character of society. His quiet, unosten¬ 
tatious life was devoted to the discovery and the proclamation 
of truth. As he said of Plato, his biography is interior. From 
time to time, as he felt called upon, he gave forth ; in essays, 
lectures, and poems, the choice treasures he had carefully 
stored up in retirement and silence. 

He deserves to rank as one of our greatest thinkers. It 
should not be forgotten, however, that absolute originality is 
far less frequent than is sometimes supposed. As some writer 
has wittily said, the ancients have stolen our best thoughts. 
Other ages, no less than the present age, have had earnest, 
reflective souls. The same problems that press on us — nature, 
life, society, freedom, death, destiny — pressed on them for 
solution. In large measure the profound thinkers of the past 
have exhausted the field of speculative philosophy. “Out of 
Plato,” says Emerson, “ come all things that are still written 
and debated among men of thought. Great havoc makes he 
among our originalities.” Only small advances can be made 
now and then, even by the children of genius. Emerson had 
a deep affinity for the imperial thinkers of our race. He 
made them his intimate friends, and assimilated their choicest 
thoughts. He settled the matter of plagiarism very simply. 
“ All minds quote,” he said. “ Old and new make the warp 





RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 




RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


16$ 


and woof of every moment There is no thread that is not a 
twist of these two strands. By necessity, by proclivity, and by 
delight, we all quote.” 

Emerson was a philosopher only in the broad, original mean¬ 
ing of the word. He had but little power as a close, logical 
reasoner. He was incapable of building up a system. “ I do 
not know,” he says, “what arguments mean in reference to any 
expression of a thought. I delight in telling what I think; but 
if you ask me how I dare say so, or why it is so, I am the most 
helpless of mortal men.” He belongs to that higher class of 
men whom we revere as prophets or seers. His method was 
not logic, but intuition. In the pure light of genius, he saw 
the truth that he announced. His was “ the oracular soul.” 
He does not argue; he only states or reveals. He gives ut¬ 
terance to what is communicated to him, whether men will 
receive it or not. 

There is an unbroken line of idealists and mystics running 
through the ages. While idealism and mysticism have often 
run into absurd extremes, they have fostered what is deepest 
and noblest in life — belief in God, in truth, and in immor¬ 
tality. The greatest representative of this idealistic tendency 
in the past was unquestionably Plato. Since his day there 
have been many others-—Plotinus, Augustine, Eckhart, Tauler, 
Schelling, Coleridge — who have sought to transcend the realm 
of the senses, and to commune immediately with the Infinite. 
Emerson is the leading representative of this philosophy in 
America. It is the source of his inspiration and power; it 
contains in varied application the great message he had to 
deliver to our superficial, commercial, money-loving country. 
His principal essays and poems rest on a mystic sense of the 
all-originating and all-pervading presence of God — the source 
of all life, of all beauty, of all truth. 

Yet it must be remembered that he was a New Englander as 
well as a transcendentalist. In spite of his idealism and mys¬ 
ticism, he never cut entirely loose from common sense. If at 
times he came perilously near ecstatic and unintelligible utter- 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


166 

ance, he soon recovered his balance. His sturdy Puritan sense 
saved him. His mysticism never drove him out of his com¬ 
fortable home into starving asceticism. It did not wholly par¬ 
alyze his active energies. Notwithstanding his strivings after 
communion with the Over-soul, he w r as not so lost to the com¬ 
monplace obligations of life as to neglect his family. It is true 
that he often grudged the time spent in attending to ordinary 
matters of business. “ Do what I can,” he said, “ I cannot 
keep my eyes off the clock.” But, unlike many another mystic, 
he did not let go of commonplace realities; and in spite of his 
addiction to ineffable communings, he was an estimable and 
useful citizen. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson was of Puritan descent, and counted 
seven ministers in the immediate line of his ancestry. Born in 
Boston, May 25, 1803, he may be considered the consummate 
flower of a healthy and vigorous stock. Nature seems to have 
seized upon the intellectual and ethical qualities of his Puritan 
ancestors, and to have wrought them into the solid foundation 
of his character. He was fitted for college in the public Latin 
School of Boston, and entered Harvard in 1817. He took 
high rank in his classes, delighted in general reading, and ex¬ 
hibited a gentle and amiable disposition. In his senior year 
he took the second prize in English composition, and at the 
conclusion of his course, in 1821, delivered the class-day poem. 

After his graduation, Emerson devoted the next five years 
to teaching, and met with an encouraging degree of success. 
He is described by one of his pupils as being “very grave, 
quiet, and impressive in his appearance. There was some¬ 
thing engaging, almost fascinating, about him; he was never 
harsh or severe, always perfectly self-controlled, never pun¬ 
ished except with words, but exercised complete command over 
the boys.” Along with his teaching, he pursued the study 
of theology under Channing, the great Unitarian leader and 
preacher. After three years of theological study he was “ ap¬ 
probated to preach,” though grave doubts had begun to trouble 
his mind. After spending a winter in South Carolina and 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON.\ 


167 


Florida for his health, he returned to Boston, and was ordained 
as colleague of the Rev. Henry Ware, pastor of the Second 
Unitarian Church. After the resignation of his colleague a 
few months later, Emerson became sole pastor, and performed 
his duties diligently and acceptably. With a broad and liberal 
spirit, he took an interest in the affairs of the city, served on 
the School Board, acted as chaplain of the State Senate, and 
co-operated in the philanthropic work of other denominations. 

His sermons, both in matter and form, foreshadowed his 
lectures and essays. Their profound thought was clothed in 
simple but felicitous diction. His manner as a speaker was 
quiet, earnest, and impressive. His voice was peculiarly pleas¬ 
ing— “the perfect music of spiritual utterance.” A brilliant 
career lay before him in the pulpit. But, as is usual in such 
cases, his doubts in regard to certain points of Christian doc¬ 
trine and traditional ceremonies increased. At last he came to 
feel conscientious scruples against administering the Lord’s 
Supper. His expanding views outgrew even the very spacious 
liberality'of his church. Had he been a time-server or a hyp¬ 
ocrite, he would have concealed his scruples. But a man of 
transparent integrity, he frankly avowed his difficulties to his 
people; and, finding the prevailing sentiment of the congre¬ 
gation against his views, he resigned his office, and gradually 
withdrew from the ministry. But on neither side was there 
any bitterness of feeling ; and whatever errors there may have 
been in Christian doctrine, we must recognize the presence of 
the charity that “thinketh no evil.” 

In 1833, the year following his resignation, he went to 
Europe for a few months, and visited Sicily, Italy, France, and 
England. He met a number of distinguished authors, among 
whom were Coleridge, De Quincey, Landor, Wordsworth, and 
Carlyle. A “ quiet night of clear, fine talk ” was the begin¬ 
ning of a warm friendship between him and Carlyle. His 
idealistic tendencies naturally made him partial to Words¬ 
worth’s poetry, which was not without influence upon his intel¬ 
lectual development. 


168 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


After his return from Europe, Emerson entered upon his 
new career as lecturer. For half a century he continued to 
appear upon the platform as a lecturer, and gradually made 
his way to a foremost place. He exemplified the truth of what 
De Quincey wrote: “ Whatever is too original will be hated at 
the first. It must slowly mould a public for itself.” When 
Emerson began to present his idealistic and mystical views, he 
was not generally understood. His philosophy was an exotic 
growth. By the prosaic multitude he was looked upon as 
mildly insane. James Freeman Clarke thus describes the gen¬ 
eral impression made by his earlier lectures: “ The majority of 
the sensible, practical community regarded him as mystical, or 
crazy, or affected, as an imitator of Carlyle, as racked and rev¬ 
olutionary, as a fool, as one who did not himself know what he 
meant. A small but determined minority, chiefly composed of 
young men and women, admired him and believed in him, took 
him for their guide, teacher, master. I, and most of my friends, 
belonged to this class. Without accepting all his opinions, or 
indeed knowing what they were, we felt that he did us more 
good than any other writer or speaker among us, and chiefly 
in two ways,— first, by encouraging self-reliance; and, sec¬ 
ondly, by encouraging God-reliance.” 

Emerson was not, in the usual sense of the term, an elo¬ 
quent speaker. He did not call to his aid the resources of 
intonation, gesture, and vehemence. But, in a spirit of ear¬ 
nestness and sincerity, he spoke his deepest convictions; and, 
in spite of his unimpassioned delivery, he was singularly im¬ 
pressive. His discourses were enveloped in an atmosphere of 
cheerful hopefulness that was especially helpful to the young. 
He believed in the ultimate triumph of truth over error, and 
inculcated a manly self-reliance and an absolute trust in God.' 
Such a preacher (for he regarded the platform as his pulpit) 
could not fail to exert a profound influence upon many lives. 
James Russell Lowell has described for us the effect of Emer¬ 
son’s lectures on his younger hearers: “ To some of us that 
long past experience remains the most marvellous and fruitful 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


169 


we have ever had. Emerson awakened us, saved us from the 
body of this death. It is the sound of the trumpet that the 
young soul longs for, careless of what breath may fill it. Sid¬ 
ney heard it in the ballad of ‘ Chevy Chase,’ and we in Emer¬ 
son. Nor did it blow retreat, but called us with assurance of 
victory.” 

In 1829, a few months after becoming a pastor in Boston, 
Emerson married Miss Ellen Louisa Tucker. It is to her that 
the poem, “ To Ellen at the South,” is addressed. Apparently 
as delicate as the flowers that called to her in their devotion, 
she died of consumption in 1832. Three years later Emerson 
married Miss Lydia Jackson, and at once occupied the house 
at Concord in which he resided till his death. In this town 
of historic and literary associations, “ He was surrounded by 
men,” to use the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, “ who ran 
to extremes in their idiosyncrasies : Alcott in speculations, 
which often led him into the fourth dimension of mental space; 
Hawthorne, who brooded himself into a dream-peopled soli¬ 
tude ; Thoreau, the nullifier of civilization, who insisted on 
nibbling his asparagus at the wrong end; to say nothing of 
idolaters and echoes. He kept his balance among them all.” 
He became the most distinguished citizen of the place ; and, 
as the years passed by, his home became the object of pious 
pilgrimages for his disciples and admirers. In 1836 he com¬ 
posed the “ Concord Hymn,” which was sung at the comple¬ 
tion of the battle monument : — 

“ By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 

Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, 

Here once the embattled farmers stood, 

And fired the shot heard round the world.” 

For some years Emerson’s studies had been in the line of 
idealistic and mystical philosophy. He gave much time to 
Plato ; dipped into Plotinus and the German mystics ; read 
with enthusiasm the poems of George Herbert, and the prose 
writings of Cudworth, Henry More, Milton, Jeremy Taylor, 


70 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


and Coleridge. In 1836, as a result of these studies, he 
published a little volume entitled “ Nature,” which contained 
the substance of his subsequent teachings in both prose and 
poetry. It is based on a pure idealism, which teaches that 
matter is only a manifestation of spirit. “ We learn that the 
Highest is present to the soul of man, that the dread universal 
Essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or beauty, or power, 
but all in one, and each entirely, is that for which all things 
exist, and that by which they are ; that spirit creates ; that 
behind nature, throughout nature, spirit is present; that spirit 
is one, and not compound ; that spirit does not act upon us 
from without, that is, in space and time, but spiritually, or 
through ourselves.” The book was variously judged, according 
to the insight or prejudices of the critics. From its very na¬ 
ture it could not be popular, and some years elapsed before 
it reached a sale of five hundred copies. 

The year “Nature” was published, the transcendental move¬ 
ment began to assume tangible form. Its representatives, 
drawn together by common sympathies and aspirations, organ¬ 
ized themselves into a society for mutual aid and encour¬ 
agement. Thi-s society was known as “The Transcendental 
Club,” and held informal meetings from house to house for the 
discussion of philosophical questions. As a class the trans- 
cendentalists, among whom were Emerson, Alcott, Channing, 
George Ripley, Theodore Parker, James Freeman Clarke, 
Thoreau, Margaret Fuller, and others, were earnest in their 
search after truth. They were optimistic, and generally favor¬ 
able to all sorts of reforms and innovations ; but occasionally 
they were also extravagant and impractical — such people, in 
short, as in the hard realism of to-day are denominated cranks. 

Transcendentalism is but another name for idealism. It 
recognizes an all-pervading spiritual presence as the ultimate 
reality. It is opposed to materialism. It teaches that man 
has a faculty transcending the senses and the understanding 
as an organ of truth. It believes in the existence of a Univer¬ 
sal Reason, of which the human soul is an individual manifes- 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


I/I 

tation — a divine spark. The highest knowledge is intuitional; 
it is an inspiration of the omnipresent Spirit. All things, ani¬ 
mate and inanimate, are but a manifestation of infinite Spirit, 
which binds the universe together in a sublime unity, and is 
the source of all wisdom, truth, and beauty. The material 
world is the image or symbol of the spiritual world ; all natural 
objects and laws are ideas of God. 

It was for the dissemination of these philosophic principles, 
which now gave character to all of Emerson’s thinking, that 
The Dial was established. It was edited at first by Margaret 
Fuller, and afterwards by Emerson, who furnished numerous 
contributions in both prose and poetry. Of course the maga¬ 
zine, with its vague and often unintelligible lucubrations, drew 
upon itself a good deal of hostile criticism. Emerson com¬ 
plained that it was “ honored by attacks from almost every 
newspaper and magazine.” Even Carlyle wrote : “ I love your 
Dial , and yet it is with a kind of shudder. You seem to me 
in danger of dividing yourselves from the Fact of this present 
Universe, in which alone, ugly as it is, can I find any anchor¬ 
age, and soaring away after Ideas, Beliefs, Revelations, and 
such like, — into perilous altitudes, as I think.” It proved 
too ethereal a plant for this hard, common-sense world, and 
after four years it died. 

There was still another important product of the transcen¬ 
dental movement. In 1840 Emerson wrote to Carlyle : “ We 
are all a little wild here with numberless projects of social 
reform. Not a reading man but has a draft of a new com¬ 
munity in his waistcoat pocket. I am gently mad myself, and 
am resolved to live cleanly. George Ripley is talking up a 
colony of agriculturists and scholars, with whom he threatens 
to take the field and the book. One man renounces the use of 
animal food ; and another, coin ; and another, domestic hired 
service ; and another, the state; and, on the whole, we have 
a commendable share of reason and hope.” The following 
year Ripley’s project took form in “ The Brook Farm Associa¬ 
tion for Education and Agriculture.” The object of the asso- 


172 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


ciation, in the words of its originator, was “to insure a more 
natural union between intellectual and manual labor than now 
exists ; to combine the thinker and the worker, as far as possi¬ 
ble, in the same individual; to guarantee the highest mental 
freedom by providing all with labor adapted to their tastes 
and talents, and securing to them the fruits of their industry.” 
Its aim, in short, was to furnish a model of an ideal civiliza¬ 
tion, in which there would be the least possible manual toil, 
and the largest amount of intellectual and spiritual culture. 
Emerson, while looking on the experiment with friendly inter¬ 
est, held aloof from active participation. His profound knowl¬ 
edge of human nature seems to have inspired misgivings as to 
its practical workings. Yet when the Brook Farm Association 
came to an end in 1846, he pronounced it in its aims a noble 
and generous movement. 

In 1841 Emerson published his first volume of “Essays,” 
containing History, Self-Reliance, Compensation, Spiritual Laws, 
Love, Friendship, Prudence, Heroism, The Over-Soul, Circles, 
Intellect, and Art. Composed under the fresh inspiration of 
his idealism, these essays are unsurpassed in depth and rich¬ 
ness by anything he subsequently wrote. Perhaps nothing 
more suggestive and inspiring has been produced in the whole 
range of American literature. But when the “ Essays ” ap¬ 
peared, New England did not breathe freely at such altitudes 
of speculation; and various critics, failing to catch its funda¬ 
mental. philosophy, stigmatized the book as vague, extravagant, 
meaningless. 

It is worth while to dwell for a moment on this work. To 
understand it is to master Emerson. The first essay, on His¬ 
tory, sounds the key-note to the whole series: “There is one 
mind common to all individual men. Every man is an inlet tq 
the same and to all of the same. He that is once admitted 
to the right of reason is made a freeman of the whole estate. 
What Plato has thought, he may think; what a saint has felt, 
he may feel; what at any time has befallen any man, he can 
understand. Who hath access to this universal mind is a party 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


173 


to all that is or can be clone, for this is the only sovereign 
agent.” The verses prefixed as a kind of motto or text em¬ 
body the same idea: — 

“ There is no great and no small 
To the Soul that maketh all; 

And where it cometh, all things are ; 

And it cometh everywhere.” 

The following lines, presenting the same thought in more 
concrete form, will be found a little startling: — 

“ I am owner of the sphere, 

Of the seven stars and the solar year, 

Of Caesar’s hand, and Plato’s brain, 

Of Lord Christ’s heart, and Shakespeare’s strain.” 

In Self-Reliance, Emerson urges us to be true to our own 
thought, to trust our own conviction, to shake off all spiritual 
bojidage. No less than other men, whether of the present age 
or former ages, we are organs of the Universal Reason. “ We 
lie in the' lap of immense Intelligence, which makes us organs 
of its activity and receivers of its truth. When we discern 
justice, when we discern truth, we do nothing of ourselves, but 
allow a passage to its beams. If we ask whence this comes, 
if we seek to pry into the soul that causes, — all metaphysics, 
all philosophy, is at fault. Its presence or its absence is all we 
can affirm.” The same thought, which lies at the basis of 
nearly all his Essays in inexhaustible richness, is fully devel¬ 
oped in The Over-Soul. 

Emerson’s life at this time was simple, busy, studious. He 
took a lively interest in his vegetable garden and in his little 
orchard of thirty trees. He had an income of about thirteen 
hundred dollars from invested funds, to which he added eight 
hundred dollars by his'winter lectures. In a letter to Carlyle, 
dated May 10, 1838, he gives us a pleasing glimpse of his 
home life: “ My wife Lydia is an incarnation of Christianity — 
I call her Asia — and keeps my philosophy from Antinomian- 


174 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


ism; my mother, whitest, mildest, most conservative of ladies, 
whose only exception to her universal preference for old things 
is her son ; my boy, a piece of love and sunshine, well worth 
my watching from morning to night, — these, and three domes¬ 
tic women, who cook and sew and run for us, make all my 
household. Here I sit and read and write, with very little 
system, and, as far as regards composition, with the most frag¬ 
mentary results : paragraphs incompressible, each sentence an 
infinitely repellent particle.” 

But, alas ! this quiet abode of domestic joy was not to re¬ 
main unsmitten. That idolized boy of five years — that “piece 
of love and sunshine ” — was taken away. “ A few weeks 
ago,” wrote the stricken father, “ I accounted myself a very 
rich man, and now the poorest of all.” His grief blossomed 
in the “ Threnody,” one of the noblest elegies ever written. 
To his overwhelming sorrow, doubt, and despair, “ the deep 
Heart ” back of all things at last spoke comfort and cheer: — 

“ Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know 
What rainbows teach, and sunsets show ? 

Verdict which accumulates 

From lengthening scroll of human fates, 

Voice of earth to earth returned, 

Prayers of saints that inly burned, — 

Saying, What is excellent 
As God lives , is permanent; 

Hearts are dust, hearts ’ loves remain ; 

Hearts ’ love will meet thee again.” 

In 1844 Emerson published a second volume of “Essays” 
in his characteristic vein. Almost every year, from the time 
he gave up his pastoral work, added to the list of his notable 
addresses. He brought his idealism to bear on various ques r 
tions connected with theology, education, and government. In 
theology he drifted farther away from, orthodox Unitarianism ; 
and an address delivered before the senior class of Divinity 
College, Cambridge, in 1838, caused a sensation and started a 
controversy, in which he “had little more than the part of Pa- 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


i7S 


troclus when the Greeks and Trojans fought over his body.” 
He was not a controversialist, but a seer. He deplored the 
materialistic tendency of this rapidly developing commercial 
age, and raised his warning voice. In a college address in 
1841 he declares that the thirst for wealth “ acts like the 
neighborhood of a gold-mine to impoverish the farm, the 
school, the church, the house, and the very body and feature 
of man.” His face was turned to the future with perpetual 
youth, and his message always carried with it encouragement 
and hope. He sympathized with every reformatory movement 
that promised a better social condition. He favored the aboli¬ 
tion of slavery, and encouraged the movement for “woman’s 
rights.” In an address in 1855, he said: “The new move¬ 
ment is only a tide shared by the spirits of man and woman ; 
and you may proceed in the faith that whatever the woman’s 
heart is prompted to desire, the man’s mind is simultaneously 
prompted to accomplish.” 

In 1847 Emerson made a second visit to England, and de¬ 
livered a number of lectures to enthusiastic audiences. The 
best of these lectures he afterwards published under the title 
of “Representative Men.” It is one of his most interesting 
and valuable works, intelligent even to the uninitiated. In 
1856 appeared his “ English Traits,” in which he embodied the 
shrewd observation and interesting reflections of his sojourn 
in England. He was delighted with English life, which, of 
course, he saw on the best side ; but he still preserved his 
equilibrium sufficiently to smile at a foible, or point out an un¬ 
flattering truth. Of Emerson’s other prose works, “ The Con¬ 
duct of Life,” “ Society and Solitude,” “ Letters and Social 
Aims,” though meriting extended notice, no more than mere 
mention can be made. 

In 1846 Emerson published his first volume of “Poems,” 
and in 1867 appeared “*May Day and Other Pieces.” In spite 
of Matthew Arnold’s judgment to the contrary, Emerson was a 
true poet, as well as an impressive lecturer and surpassing es¬ 
sayist. His poetry, no less than his prose, is pervaded by his 


176 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


idealistic philosophy. In his admirable poem, “Wood-Notes,” 
he thus speaks of nature: — 

“ Ever fresh the broad creation, 

A divine improvisation, 

From the heart of God proceeds, 

A single will, a million deeds.” 

As a product of spirit, the world is full of meaning. - It is 
pervaded by a divine symbolism, which it is the office of the 
poet to read and interpret. Emerson calls the world “ a temple, 
whose walls are covered with emblems, pictures, and command¬ 
ments of the Deity.” “ Poetry,” he says, “ is the perpetual 
endeavor to express the spirit of the thing.” Nature is to 
him a continual revelation; hence he says in the little poem, 
“ Good-by, ” — 

“And when I am stretched beneath the pines, 

Where the evening star so holy shines, 

I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, 

At the sophist schools and the learned clan; 

For what are they all, in their high conceit, 

When man in the bush with God may meet ? ” 

Emerson took his poetic office seriously. He considered 
poetry the highest vocation. “The poet,” he.says, “is the 
sayer, the namer, and represents beauty. He is a sovereign, 
and stands at the centre. For the world is not painted or 
adorned, but is from the beginning beautiful; and God has not 
made some beautiful things, but Beauty is the creator of the 
universe. Therefore the poet is not any permissive potentate, 
but is emperor in his own right.” In “Merlin,” Emerson 
says:— 

“ Thy trivial harp will never please 
Or fill my craving ear; 

Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, 

Free, peremptory, clear. 

No jingling serenader’s art, 

Nor tinkle of piano strings, 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


177 


Can make the wild blood start 
In its mystic springs.” 

Impressed with the grandeur of the poet’s vocation, Emer¬ 
son was more or less indifferent to the art of versification. He 
rose above ingenious tricks and petty fancies. He has been 
called a poet “wanting the accomplishment of verse.” He 
depended for success upon grandeur of thought, and truth of 
revelation. “ For it is not metres,” he says, “ but a metre¬ 
making argument, that makes a poem, — a thought so passion¬ 
ate and alive, that, like the spirit of a plant or an animal, it 
has an architecture of its own, and adorns nature with a new 
thing.” Again in “Merlin,” he says: — 

“ Great is the art, 

Great be the manners, of the bard. 

He shall not his brain encumber 
With the coil of rhythm and number; 

But, leaving rule and pale forethought, 

He shall aye climb 
For his rhyme.” 

Emerson was a loving student of nature. He reminds us 
of Wordsworth in his painstaking observation. His exqui¬ 
site appreciation of natural beauty is often expressed in words 
nobly wedded to the sense. In “ The Snow-Storm,” the retiring 
north wind — 

“ Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, 

Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work, 

The frolic architecture of the snow.” 

And again in “ Wood-Notes : ” — 

“Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, 

Or dip thy paddle in the lake, 

But it carves the bow of beauty there, 

And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.” 

He deduces from the humblest objects in nature the richest 
lessons of practical wisdom. To him the humblebee is — 


i;8 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


“ Wiser far than human seer, 

Yellow-breeched philosopher. 

Seeing only what is fair, 

Sipping only what is sweet, 

Thou dost mock at fate and care, 

Leave the chaff, and take the wheat.” 

He knew the sweet, soothing influence of nature, of which 
Bryant spoke. In “ Musketaquid, ” he says : — 

“All my hurts 

My garden spade can heal. A w T oodland walk, 

A quest of river grapes, a mocking thrush, 

A wild rose, or rock-loving columbine, 

Salves my worst wounds.” 


Notwithstanding his treasures of beauty and wisdom, Emer¬ 
son can hardly be a popular poet. He dwells in the higher 
regions of song. He must be content with a small but select 
audience. He does not deal in sentimentality — “ poetry'- fit to 
be put round frosted cake; ” he does not clothe his thought in 
the richest music of numbers. He is profoundly thoughtful; 
he earnestly strives to voice the speechless messages of the 
Over-soul. He grows upon us as we grasp more fully his 
meaning. Though not the most entertaining of our poets, he 
brings us the deepest and most helpful messages. His poetry, 
like his prose, brings courage and hope to burdened and strug¬ 
gling men. He calls them to sincerity, to faith, to truth. In 
the tasks that come to us, divine help is near: — 

\ 

“ So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man, 

When Duty whispers low, Thou must , 

The youth replies, I can.” 


If there are any who question this estimate, let them read, 
besides the poems already mentioned, “ Each and All,” “ The 
Problem,” “The Rhodora,” “Astraea,” “Sursum Corda,” “Ode 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 


179 


to Beauty,” “ Give All to Love,” “ Voluntaries,” and many 
others. 

Emerson was peculiar in his literary methods. It is doubt¬ 
ful whether we have had another author so frugal in husband¬ 
ing every thought. Besides the work done in his study day 
by day, he was accustomed to jot down in a note-book the 
stray thoughts that came to him in conversation or on his 
walks. The suggestions that occurred to him in his studies, 
conversations, and meditations he elaborated in a common¬ 
place book, where he noted the subject of each paragraph. He 
thus preserved the best thoughts of his most fertile moments. 
When he had occasion to prepare an essay or a lecture, he 
brought together all the paragraphs relating to the subject in 
his commonplace books, supplying, at the same time, such new 
connective matter as might be necessary. This method will 
explain the evident absence of logical treatment in most of his 
writings, and also account for the fact, noted by Alcott, that 
“ you may begin at the last paragraph and read backwards.” 
Emerson subjected his writings to repeated and exacting revis¬ 
ions. Paragraphs were condensed, and every superfluous sen¬ 
tence and word were mercilessly pruned away. “ Nowhere 
else,” as Burroughs says, “ is there such a preponderance of 
pure statement, of the very attar of thought, over the bulkier, 
circumstantial, qualifying, or secondary elements.” 

The year 1867 is indicated as about the limit of his work¬ 
ing life. He gave pathetic expression to his experience in the 
poem entitled “ Terminus : ” — 

“ It is time to be old, 

To take in sail: — 

The god of bounds, 

Who sets to seas a shore, 

Came to me in his fatal rounds, 

And said ‘ No more.’ ” 

The closing years of his life resembled an ever-deepening 
twilight. Hearing, sight, memory, slowly but gradually gave 


i8o 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


way. At last, April 27, 1882, surrounded by those he loved, 
he was beckoned “to his vaster home.” Shall we not say that 
his life was beautiful ? Men testified of him that he was radi¬ 
ant with goodness, that his presence was like a benediction, 
that he exhibited the meekness and gentleness of Christ. To 
have been such a man is better than to have been a great 
writer. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 








NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


181 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

It is not difficult to portray the lives of ordinary men. 
Their outward circumstances present nothing unusual, and 
their inward experiences admit of ready comprehension and 
description. All that is needed in such cases is diligent re¬ 
search. But it is different with the man upon whom Provi¬ 
dence has lavished such a wealth of gifts as raises him high 
above his fellows. The outward incidents of his life may 
indeed be easily narrated. But when these have been pre¬ 
sented in the fullest measure, how inadequate and unsatisfac¬ 
tory the portrait still remains ! ' That which distinguishes him 
from other men, and exalts him above them, is felt to be 
untouched. And when we essay to penetrate the secret of 
his genius, we are puzzled and baffled at every step. Only 
unsatisfactory glimpses reward our most patient observation. 
Strange and beautiful flowers may burst forth under our very 
gaze ; but the marvellous energy that produces them remains 
invisible and mysterious. These reflections force themselves 
upon us as we study the life of the most original and most 
gifted of all our American writers. 

The interesting historic town of Salem, Mass., has the dis¬ 
tinction of being the birthplace of Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
Here he first saw the light, July 4, 1804. He sprang from Puri¬ 
tan stock almost as old as the Plymouth colony. The strong 
traits of his ancestry, as he himself recognized, intertwined 
themselves with his personality. His ancestors occupied a 
position of social and official prominence, and won an unen¬ 
viable distinction in persecuting Quakers and killing witches. 
For a hundred years before his birth they followed the sea; 
“a gray-headed shipmaster, in each generation, retiring from 


1 82 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


the quarterdeck to the homestead, while a boy of fourteen took 
the hereditary place before the mast, confronting the salt spray 
and the gale, which had blustered against his sire and grand- 
sire.” His father was a reserved, thoughtful man of strong 
will; his mother, a gifted, sensitive woman, who led the life 
of a recluse after her husband’s death. These traits, as will 
be seen, were transmitted to their son in an intensified degree. 

Only glimpses of his boyhood — brief, but very distinct — 
are afforded us. “One of the peculiarities of my boyhood,” 
he tells us, “ was a grievous disinclination to go to school, and 
(Providence favoring me in this natural repugnance) I never 
did go half as much as other boys, partly owing to delicate 
health (which I made the most of for the purpose), and partly 
because, much of the time, there were no schools within reach.” 
One of his early teachers was Worcester of dictionary fame. 
He spent a year at Raymond on the banks of Sebago Lake in 
Maine, where he ran wild, hunting, fishing, skating, and read¬ 
ing at pleasure, — a period that subsequently remained with 
him as a happy memory. Returning to Salem, he was tutored 
for college, and entered Bowdoin in the autumn of 1821. 

His college career cannot be cited as a model. “ I was 
an idle student,” he confesses, “negligent of college rules and 
the Procrustean details of academic life, rather choosing to 
nurse my own fancies than to dig into Greek roots and be 
numbered among the learned Thebans.” He played cards on 
the sly; he drank (a student never drinks anything stronger) 
“wine” and “hard cider;” he went fishing and hunting when 
the faculty thought he was at his books. But in spite of his 
easy-going habits he maintained a respectable standing in his 
classes, and his Latin composition and his rendering of the clas¬ 
sics were favorably spoken of. He was an exceedingly hand¬ 
some young man; and it is said that an old gypsy woman, 
suddenly meeting him in a lonely forest path, was startled into 
the question, “Are you a man or an angel?” Among his 
college associates, who afterwards achieved distinction, were 
Henry W. Longfellow and Franklin Pierce. 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


183 


The youth of Hawthorne gave no startling premonitions of 
future greatness. But there is evidence that he was not uncon¬ 
scious of his latent extraordinary powers; and some at least 
of his intimate friends discerned his literary gifts. In a letter to 
his mother, written in his boyhood, he says : “ I do not want to 
be a doctor and live by man’s diseases, nor a minister to live 
by their sins, nor a lawyer and live by their quarrels ; so I 
don’t see that there is anything left for me but to be an author. 
How would you like, some day, to see a whole shelf full of 
books written by your son, with ‘ Hawthorne’s Works ’ printed 
on their backs ? ” To Horatio Bridge, an old and intimate 
friend, he says: “I know not whence your faith came; but 
while we were lads together at a country college, . . . doing a 
hundred things that the faculty never heard of, or else it had 
been the worse for us, still it was your prognostic of your 
friend’s destiny that he was to be a writer of fiction.” 

His youthful reading was sufficiently extensive. “ The Pil¬ 
grim’s Progress,” as with so many others, was a favorite book. 
He read Scott, Rousseau, and Froissart, though he was not fond 
of history in general. He loved poetry; and with catholic taste' 
he studied Thomson and Pope, as well as Milton and Shake¬ 
speare. The first book he bought with his own money was 
“The Faerie Queene.” But it can hardly be said that he was 
a great lover of books. He never made any pretence to schol¬ 
arship, and there are few quotations in his writings. But he 
was one of the keenest observers; and the books he loved most 
were the forms of nature and the faces of men. These he read 
as it were by stealth; and, excepting the mighty Shakespeare, 
no one else ever read them more deeply. The quiet forest and 
the stirring city were to him great libraries, where he traced the 
almost invisible writing of the Creator. Thus, as he said of 
the simple husbandman in “ The Great Stone Face,” he “ had 
ideas unlike those of other men, not gained from books, but 
of a higher tone, — a tranquil and familiar majesty, as if he 
had been talking with the angels as his daily friends.” 

After his graduation, in 1825, Hawthorne returned to his 


184 


AMERICAN LITER A TURK. 


home in Salem, and for several years led a life of phenomenal 
seclusion and toil. His habits were almost mechanical in their 
regularity. He studied in the morning, wrote in the afternoon, 
and wandered by the seashore in the evening. He sedulously 
shunned society; and “destiny itself,” he afterwards wrote, 
“has often been worsted in the attempt to get me out to 
dinner.” But his recluse life should not be looked upon as 
gloomy and morbid. In pondering human life, he was indeed 
fond of the weird and the mysterious. He explored the hidden 
crypts of the soul. But his mind was far too healthy and strong 
to be weighed down with permanent gloom. He never lost his 
anchorage of common sense; and a genial humor cast its cheer¬ 
ful light upon his darkest musings. 

During this period of retirement he was serving a laborious 
apprenticeship to his craft. Never was a writer more exacting 
in self-criticism. Much that he wrote was mercilessly consigned 
to the flames. In these years of painstaking toil, from which 
even the highest genius is not exempt, he acquired his exquisite 
sense of form, and his marvellous mastery of English. “ Haw¬ 
thorne’s English,” as Hillard says, “is absolutely unique; very 
careful and exact, but never studied ; with the best word always 
in the best place ; pellucid as crystal; full of delicate and va¬ 
ried music; with gleams of poetry, and touches of that peculiar 
humor of his, which is half smile and half sigh.” 

During the period in question he published in the Token , the 
New England Magazme , and other periodicals a considerable 
number of tales. They appeared anonymously, and attracted 
but little attention. Hawthorne had for a good many years 
what he called “ the distinction of being the obscurest man of 
letters in America.” It was a grievous disappointment and 
humiliation. In 1837 most of these scattered productions wefe 
brought together, and published in a volume with the happy 
title of “Twice-Told Tales.” It had but a limited circulation. 
While it charmed a class of cultivated, reflective readers, its 
very excellence prevented it from becoming widely popular. 
In a review of the book, Longfellow, with clear, critical acumen, 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


185 


said: “It comes from the hand of a man of genius. Every¬ 
thing about it has the freshness of morning and of May. These 
flowers and green leaves of poetry have not the dust of the 
highway upon them. They have been gathered fresh from the 
secret places of a peaceful and gentle heart. There flow deep 
waters, silent, calm, and cool; and the green trees look into 
them, and ‘God’s blue heaven.’ The book, though in prose, is 
written, nevertheless, by a poet. He looks upon all things in 
the spirit of love and with lively sympathies ; for to him exter¬ 
nal form is but the representation of internal being, all things 
having a life, and end and aim.” This volume, together with 
a second series of “ Tales ” published in 1842, was in truth a 
remarkable contribution to American literature, and by its 
enduring interest, beauty, and truth, has since established itself 
as a classic. 

The year 1838 brought an important change in Hawthorne’s 
lrfe. Under the Democratic administration of Van Buren, he 
was appointed weigher and gauger in the Boston Custom¬ 
house. It was well for him that he was thus called to com¬ 
mon labor. He himself recognized that his life of seclusion 
had been sufficiently protracted. “ I want to have something 
to do with this material world,” he said. His new employment 
rescued him from the danger of becoming morbid, broadened 
his sympathies, and enriched his mind with new stores of ob¬ 
servation and experience. He learned to know life, not as it 
may be conceived of in seclusion, but as it is in reality. Hence¬ 
forth he was able to take up his pen with the conviction “ that 
mankind was a solid reality, and that he himself was not a 
dream.” 

After two years of laborious and faithful service, during 
which his literary work was suspended, a change of adminis¬ 
tration resulted in his being turned out of office. He engaged 
in the socialistic experiment of Brook Farm ; and, as we learn 
from his letters, he entered upon his new duties with consider¬ 
able enthusiasm. He chopped hay with such “ righteous vehe¬ 
mence ” that he broke the machine in ten minutes. Armed 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


186 

with a pitchfork he made what seemed to him a gallant attack 
upon a heap of manure. He turned grindstones and milked 
cows; hoed potatoes and picked apples ; made hay and gath¬ 
ered squashes ; and then for supper devoured huge mounds of 
buckwheat cakes. But at last his sense of humor, which kept 
him for a time from taking life at Brook Farm too seriously, 
began to fail him. His tasks became intensely prosaic ; and 
finally he fell into the carnal state that made him welcome the 
idleness of a rainy day, or kept him on the sick-list longer than 
the necessities of the case actually required. 

At Brook Farm, as elsewhere, Hawthorne not only made 
“ a prey of people’s individualities,” to use his own phrase, 
but he observed nature also with microscopic vision. Accord¬ 
ing to his custom, which he kept up through life, he' stored his 
note-books with interesting observations and reflections. A 
few years later he etherealized his Brook Farm experience into 
the “ Blithedale Romance,” which ranks as one qf his best 
productions. It was published in 1852. Though he protests 
in the preface against a too literal understanding of his ro¬ 
mance, Margaret Fuller is thought to have furnished some 
traits of £enobia ; and it is impossible not to associate Haw¬ 
thorne himself with Miles Coverdale. The following extract, 
which sets forth the cruel disillusion of the Brook Farm vision¬ 
aries, is not fiction : “ While our enterprise lay all in theory, 
we had pleased ourselves with delectable visions of the spirit¬ 
ualization of labor. It was to be our form of prayer and cere¬ 
monial of worship. Each stroke of the hoe was to uncover 
some aromatic root of wisdom, heretofore hidden from the sun. 
Pausing in the field to let the wind exhale the moisture from 
our foreheads, we were to look upward, and catch glimpses 
into the far-off soul of truth. In this point of view, matters 
did not turn out quite so well as we anticipated. . . . The 
clods of earth, which we so constantly belabored and turned 
over, were never etherealized into thought. Our thoughts, on 
the contrary, were fast becoming cloddish. Our labor symbol¬ 
ized nothing, and left us mentally sluggish in the dusk of the 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 187 

evening. Intellectual activity is incompatible with any large 
amount of bodily exercise.” 

Hawthorne remained at Brook Farm not quite a year. He 
returned to Boston, where he married Miss Sophia Peabody in 
1842. The union was a peculiarly happy one. Mrs. Haw¬ 
thorne was a gifted and amiable woman, who appreciated her 
husband’s genius ; and throughout their wedded career, which 
seems to have been unmarred by a single misunderstanding, 
she stood at his side as a wise counsellor, sympathetic friend, 
and helpful companion. Their correspondence, not only during 
the days of courtship, but also during the whole course of their 
wedded life, constantly breathes a spirit of delicate, tender, 
reverent love. 

The newly wedded pair at once took up their residence in 
the Old Manse at Concord, where they numbered among their 
friends Emerson, Ellery Channing, and Thoreau. Hawthorne 
had not waited for wealth before marrying. It sometimes be¬ 
came a serious problem to satisfy the grocer and the butcher. 
But in spite of the cares growing out of their humble circum¬ 
stances, the happy pair maintained a cheerful courage. “ The 
other day,” wrote Mrs. Hawthorne, “ when my husband saw 
me contemplating an appalling vacuum in his dressing-gown, 
he said he was ‘ a man of the largest rents in the country, and 
it was strange he had not more ready money.’ Our rents are 
certainly not to be computed ; for everything seems now to be 
wearing out all at once. . . . But, somehow or other, I do 
not care much, because we are so happy. We — 

* Sail away 

Into the regions of exceeding day,’ 

and the shell of life is not of much consequence.” 

In the introductory chapter to the “ Mosses from an Old 
Manse,” a delightful book made up of stories written for the 
most part at this period, Hawthorne gives us a minute descrip¬ 
tion of his new home. The Old Manse had never been “ pro¬ 
faned by a lay occupant,” he says, “ until that memorable 


88 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


summer afternoon when I entered it as my home. A priest 
had built it, a priest had succeeded to it; other priestly men 
from time to time had dwelt in it, and children born in its 
chambers had grown up to assume the priestly character. It 
was awful to reflect how many sermons must have been written 
there. . . . There was in the rear of the house the most de¬ 
lightful little nook of a study that ever offered its snug seclu¬ 
sion to a scholar. It was here that Emerson wrote * Nature ; ’ 
for he was then an inhabitant of the Manse, and used to watch 
the Assyrian dawn and the Paphian sunset and moonrise from 
the summit of our eastern hill. When I first saw the room, its 
walls were blackened with the smoke of unnumbered years, 
and made still blacker by the grim prints of Puritan ministers 
that hung around. These worthies looked strangely like bad 
angels — or, at least, like men who had wrestled so continually 
and so sternly with the devil that somewhat of his sooty fierce¬ 
ness had been imparted to their own visages.” 

Hawthorne lived at Concord four years, a period of ripened 
manhood and deepened character. He was then appointed 
surveyor in the Custom-house at Salem, where he went to live 
in 1846. He was not very partial to his native town ; and in 
one of his letters of an earlier date he gives humorous expres¬ 
sion to his dislike : “ Methinks, all enormous sinners should 
be sent on pilgrimage to Salem, and compelled to spend a 
length of time there, proportioned to the enormity of their 
offences. Such punishment would be suited to crimes that do 
not quite deserve hanging, yet are too aggravated for the 
State’s prison.” He discharged the duties of his office with 
exemplary fidelity. He did but little literary work ; but he 
was not so entirely absorbed in his prosaic duties as not to 
make his customary but silent and unsuspected observations 
upon the characters of those about him. 

In the introduction to “The Scarlet Letter,” which was 
published in 1850, he gives an account of his custom-house 
experiences, and furnishes us a delightful series of portraits of 
his subordinates. Take, for example, a single trait in the char- 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


189 


acter of the patriarch of the custom-house: “ His gormandism 
was a highly agreeable trait; and to hear him talk of roast 
meat was as appetizing as a pickle or an oyster. As he pos¬ 
sessed no higher attribute, and neither sacrificed nor vitiated 
any spiritual endowment by devoting all his energies and in¬ 
genuities to subserve the delight and profit of his maw, it 
always pleased and satisfied me to hear him expatiate on fish, 
poultry, and butcher’s meat, and the most eligible methods of 
preparing them for the table. His reminiscences of good 
cheer, however ancient the date of the actual banquet, seemed 
to bring the savor of pig or turkey under one’s very nostrils. 
There were flavors on his palate that had lingered there not 
less than sixty or seventy years, and were still apparently as 
fresh as the mutton-chop which he had just devoured for his 
breakfast. I have heard him smack his lips over dinners, 
every guest at which, except himself, had long been food for 
worms. . . . The chief tragic event of the old man’s life, so 
far as I could judge, was his mishap with a certain goose 
which lived and died some twenty or forty years ago; a goose 
of most promising figure, but which at table proved so invete- 
rately tough that the carving-knife would make no impression 
on its carcass, and it could only be divided with an axe and 
handsaw.” 

After three years a change of administration again led to 
Hawthorne’s retirement. “ Now you will have leisure to write 
your book,” cheerfully exclaimed his wife, when he told her of 
his removal. When he asked what they would live on mean¬ 
while, she led him to a desk, and proudly pointed to a heap 
of gold that she had saved out of her weekly allowance for 
household expenses. He set to work at once upon “ The 
Scarlet Letter,” perhaps the best known of his writings, and 
the most subtile and powerful piece of fiction produced in this 
country. It is a tragedy of sin and remorse, in which thoughts 
are acts. Its extraordinary merits were at once recognized, 
and at a single bound Hawthorne attained the literary emi¬ 
nence that his genius deserved. His day of obscurity was 


190 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


past; the praises of “ The Scarlet Letter ” in America were 
re-echoed in England. This enthusiastic reception of his work, 
which his frequent disappointments had not prepared him for, 
brought him satisfaction and encouragement. It seems to have 
acted upon him as a stimulus to renewed effort; and the years 
immediately following were the most productive of his life. 
Even the greatest genius needs the encouragement of appre¬ 
ciation. 

In 1850, the year in which “ The Scarlet Letter ” appeared, 
Hawthorne moved to Lenox in western Massachusetts. He 
occupied a small red cottage, which, but for its commanding 
view of mountain, lake, and valley, could not have been con¬ 
sidered in keeping with his gifts and fame. His limited means 
still enforced simplicity of living. Here he wrote “ The House 
of the Seven Gables,” one of his four great romances, which 
was published in 1851. It was written, as were most of his 
works, to set forth a spiritual truth. The story was never with 
Hawthorne the principal thing. It was simply the skeleton, 
which he clothed with the flesh of thought and vitalized with 
the breath of truth. “ The House of the Seven Gables ” illus¬ 
trates the great truth “ that the wrong-doing of one generation 
lives into the succeeding ones, and, divesting itself of every 
temporary advantage, becomes a pure and uncontrollable mis¬ 
chief.” 

While at Lenox, Hawthorne wrote also his “Wonder-Book” 
for boys and girls, a beautifully modernized version of ancient 
classic myths. Though intended for children, it is not with¬ 
out interest for older people. With his growing popularity his 
financial condition improved; and in 1852 he purchased a 
house at Concord, formerly owned by Alcott, to which he gave 
the name of the Wayside. Here he took up his abode, ahd 
completed his “Tanglewood Tales,” another admirable volume 
intended for young people. Upon the nomination of his friend 
Franklin Pierce for the presidency, he consented, not without 
urgent solicitation, to prepare a campaign biography. It is 
characterized by good taste and sobriety of judgment. After 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


I 9 I 

the election of Pierce, he received the appointment of consul 
to Liverpool, and sailed for Europe in 1853. 

This opportunity to spend some time abroad came to the 
Hawthornes as the realization of a long-cherished dream. Few 
Americans have been better fitted in culture to appreciate and 
enjoy the society, historic associations, and art treasures of the 
Old World. Though Hawthorne discharged the duties of his 
position with conscientious fidelity, its emoluments, which were 
considerable, constituted its principal charm. “I disliked my 
office from the first,” he says, “ and never came into any good 
accordance with it. Its dignity, so far as it had any, was an 
encumbrance; the attentions it drew upon me (such as invita¬ 
tions to mayors’ banquets and public celebrations of all kinds, 
where, to my horror, I found myself expected to stand up and 
speak) were — as I may say without incivility or ingratitude, 
because there is nothing personal in that sort of hospitality — 
a bore. The official business was irksome, and often painful. 
There was nothing pleasant about the whole affair, except the 
emoluments.” 

As at Salem, Hawthorne kept his eyes, open to his sur¬ 
roundings, and filled his note-books with many charming inci¬ 
dents and descriptions. At intervals he made brief excursions 
to the most noted parts of England. His literary fame caused 
him to be much sought after, and he §aw the most distinguished 
men of the time. Like Irving, he entertained a friendly feel¬ 
ing toward the mother-country, which he fondly calls, in a work 
recording his experience and impressions, “Our Old Home.” 
But he had no disposition, as he said, to besmear our self- 
conscious English cousins with butter and honey. “ These 
people,” he says, “think so loftily of themselves, and so con¬ 
temptuously of everybody else, that it requires more generosity 
than I possess to keep always in perfectly good humor with 
them.” 

After five years Hawthorne resigned the consulate at Liver¬ 
pool, and then devoted two years to travel, chiefly in France 
and Italy. It was a period of rest, observation, and reflection. 


192 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


The art treasures of Rome, as well as its historic associations, 
were a source of exquisite pleasure. His Italian impressions 
he embodied in the last of his great romances, “ The Marble 
Faun.” It was sketched out in Italy, rewritten in England, 
and published in i860. It abounds in art criticism and de¬ 
scriptions of Italian scenery. But through it all there runs a 
deathless story, with the profound moral that a perfect culture 
is unattainable in a state of innocence, and that the noblest 
character can be developed only through spiritual conflict. 

Hawthorne had a deep sense of human sin and guilt. It 
enters into many of his writings, and tinges them with a sombre 
hue. His works appeal most to those who have been chastened 
in toil and suffering. He everywhere breathes a spirit of ten¬ 
der sympathy, from which no one, however erring and fallfen, 
is excluded. “ Man,” he says, “ must not disclaim his brother¬ 
hood even with the guiltiest, since, though his hand be clean, 
his heart has surely been polluted by the flitting phantoms of 
iniquity.” In the conflicts and sufferings of humanity he rec¬ 
ognized the struggle of the race after a better and purer life 
than has yet been realized on earth. 

The year “The Marble Faun” appeared, Hawthorne re¬ 
turned to his native country, and made his home once more 
at the Wayside. But the fire of genius was burning low. He 
no longer enjoyed robust* health; and, while the country was 
engaged in the throes of civil war, he found it impossible to 
give himself to the calm, secluded task of inventing stories. 
No other great work came from his magic pen. He indeed 
essayed other achievements ; but “ Septimius Felton ” was never 
finished, and “ The Dolliver Romance ” remained a fragment. 
His health gradually declined. At last, in the faint hope of 
improvement, he started with his lifelong friend Pierce on .a 
journey through northern New England. But the sudden death 
that he had desired came to him at Plymouth, N.H., May 19, 
1864. A few days later he was laid to rest with Thoreau in 
the cemetery at Concord. 

This survey of Hawthorne’s life and work enables us to 


NA THANIEL HA W THOR HE. 


193 


distinguish some of the elements that entered into his unique 
character. His piercing vision gave him a deep sense of spirit¬ 
ual reality. Like every finely organized nature, he was pro¬ 
foundly reverent. In the seclusion of his chamber and on his 
lonely rambles he felt what he calls “ the spirit’s natural in¬ 
stinct of adoration towards a beneficent Father.” This was the 
secret of his independence and of his loyalty to truth. His 
ideals were lofty, and any departure from the strictest integrity 
of thought or act appeared to him in the light of treason. 
With his eye constantly fixed on the realities of life, he de¬ 
manded everywhere the most perfect sincerity. Few men have 
ever had a more cordial contempt for every form of pretence 
and hypocrisy. He was a keen reader of character, and only 
true and honest natures were admitted to the sacred intimacy 
of his friendship. His tastes were almost feminine in their 
delicacy. He had an exquisite appreciation of the beauties 
of nature and art. He caught their secret meaning. Retiring 
and modest in disposition, he loathed the vulgarity of every 
form of obtrusiveness. He was peculiarly gentle in manner 
and in spirit; but it was that noble gentleness born, not of 
weakness, but of conscious power. His reflective temperament 
had a predilection for the darker and more mysterious side of 
life. He fathomed the lowest depths of the soul. As we read 
his romances and tales, we have a new sense of the meaning 
and mystery of existence. 


194 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW . 

Longfellow has gained an enviable place in the affections 
of the American people ; and in England his works, it is said, 
have a wider circulation than those of Tennyson. This popu¬ 
larity has not been attained by brilliancy of genius. There 
have been more exquisitely gifted poets, who by no means 
have held so large a place in public esteem. The highest ge¬ 
nius is perhaps excluded from popularity by its very originality. 
Longfellow, while possessing poetic gifts of a high order, has 
treated themes of-general interest. He has wrought within the 
range of ordinary thought and sentiment. 

His life was beautiful in its calm, gradual, healthful devel¬ 
opment. It was not unlike the river Charles, of which he 
sang : — 

“ Oft in sadness and in illness, 

I have watched thy current glide, 

Till the beauty of its stillness 
Overflowed me like a tide. 

And in bitter hours and brighter, 

When I saw thy waters gleam, 

I have felt my heart beat lighter, 

And leap onward with thy stream.” 

His life was itself a poem — a type of all that he has writ¬ 
ten. It was full of gentleness, courtesy, sincerity, and manly 
beauty. It was free from eccentricity; it breathed a large sym¬ 
pathy; it grounded itself on invisible and eternal realities. 
The message he brought was sane and helpful. He did not 
aim at the solution of great problems ; he was not ambitious 
to fathom the lowest depths. But for half a century he contin- 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 




HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 195 

ued to send forth, in simple, harmonious verse, messages of 
beauty, sympathy, and hope. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born in Portland, Me., 
Feb. 27, 1807. He sprang from a sturdy, honorable New 
England family, the founder of which came to Massachusetts 
toward the close of the seventeenth century. His father was 
a graduate of Harvard, a prominent lawyer in Portland, and 
at one time a member of Congress. The poet inherited the 
disposition and manners of his father, who has been described 
as a man “ free from everything offensive to good taste or good 
feeling.” On his mother’s side the poet counted in his ances¬ 
tral line John Alden arid Priscilla Mullen, whom he has immor¬ 
talized in “The Courtship of Miles Standish.” While his 
ancestors on both sides were characterized by strong sense 
and sterling integrity, there was no indication of latent, poetic 
genius. Its sudden appearance in the subject of our sketch 
is one of those miracles of nature that cannot be fully ex¬ 
plained by any law of heredity. 

During the early years of his life, Portland possessed the 
charm of beautiful scenery and stirring incident. The city 
rises by gentle ascent from Casco Bay. Its principal streets 
are lined with trees, so that it has been not inaptly called “The 
Forest City.” Back of the town are the stately trees of Deer- 
ing’s Woods. It was a place of considerable commercial im¬ 
portance, and foreign vessels and strange-tongued sailors were 
seen at its wharves. In the War of 1812 defensive works were 
erected on the shore. In a naval combat off the coast between 
the British brig Boxer and the United States brig Enterprise, 
the captains of both vessels lost their lives. The deep impres¬ 
sion made by these scenes and associations is reflected in the 
beautiful poem, “ My Lost Youth.” 

Longfellow entered Bowdoin College at the age of fifteen. 
He was courteous in his bearing, refined in his tastes, and stu¬ 
dious in his habits. A classmate, writing of him a half-century 
later, says, “ He was an agreeable companion, kindly and 
social in his manner, rendering himself dear to his associates 


196 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


by his disposition and deportment.” He held a very high 
rank in a large and able class. His strong literary bent mani¬ 
fested itself early. During his college course he composed a 
number of poems of marked excellence, a few of which have 
been given a place in his “ Complete Poetical Works.” All 
young writers are apt to be more or less imitative; and in the 
poems of this period, especially in those treating of nature, the 
influence of Bryant is clearly perceptible. 

He early showed a strong predilection for a literary career. 
In his eighteenth year he wrote to his father : “ The fact is, 
I most eagerly aspire after future eminence in literature ; my 
whole soul burns most ardently for it. There may be some¬ 
thing visionary in this, but I flatter myself that I have pru¬ 
dence enough to keep my enthusiasm from defeating its own 
object*by too great haste. . . . Whether nature has given me 
any capacity for knowledge or not, she has, at any rate, given 
me a very strong predilection for literary pursuits ; and I am 
almost confident in believing that, if I can ever rise in the 
world, it must be by the exercise of my talent in the wide field 
of literature.” 

After his graduation in 1825, Longfellow began the study 
of law in his father’s office ; but, like several other American 
authors, he found his legal books exceedingly tedious. Soon 
the way was opened for him to enter upon the literary career 
for which he was eminently fitted by taste and talents. While 
at college his linguistic ability had attracted attention. Ac¬ 
cordingly, when the department of modern languages was 
established at Bowdoin, he was elected professor, and granted 
leave of absence for travel and study abroad. He sailed for 
Europe in 1826, and spent the next three years in France, Ger¬ 
many, Italy, Spain, Holland, and England. He studiously 
familiarized himself with the scenery, customs, language, and 
literature of those countries. Like Paul Flemming in “ Hy¬ 
perion,” “He worked his way diligently through the ancient 
poetic lore of Germany, from Frankish legends of St. George 
and Saxon Rhyme-Chronicles, . . . into the bright, sunny land 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 


197 


of harvests, where, amid the golden grain and the blue corn¬ 
flowers, walk the modern bards, and sing.” After his return, 
he taught five years in his Alma Mater with eminent success. 

One of the fruits of his stay abroad was a little work in 
prose entitled “ Outre Mer,” in which he gave some of the 
“ scenes and musings ” of his pilgrimage. It is made up of a 
series of pleasant sketches in the manner of Irving’s “ Sketch 
Book.” It was written, as he tells us, when the duties of the 
day were over, and the world around him was hushed in sleep. 
“ And as I write,” he concludes, “ the melancholy thought 
intrudes upon me, — To what end is all this toil ? Of what 
avail these midnight vigils ? Dost thou covet fame ? Vain 
dreamer ! A few brief days, — and what will the busy world 
know of thee ? Alas ! this little book is but a bubble on the 
stream; and, although it may catch the sunshine for a moment, 
yet it will soon float down the swift-rushing current, and be 
seen no more ! ” 

In 1831 he married Miss Mary Storer Potter of Portland, 
a lady of great personal attractions and of exceptional culture. 
Their married life was brief. She accompanied him on his 
second visit to Europe, where she died in Rotterdam in No¬ 
vember, 1835. She is the “ being beauteous ” commemorated 
in the “ Footsteps of Angels : ” — 

“ With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes the messenger divine, 

Takes the vacant chair beside me, 

Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me 
With those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the stars, so still and saint-like, 

Looking downward from the skies. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended, 

Is the spirit’s voiceless prayer, 

Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 

Breathing from her lips of air.” 


198 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


Longfellow’s reputation as a teacher and writer was not 
confined to Brunswick. He was generally recognized as a 
rising man ; and hence, when the chair of modern languages 
and literature became vacant at Harvard by the resignation of 
Professor George Ticknor, he was called to Cambridge. But 
before entering upon his duties there, he again went abroad, 
and spent two years in study. In “ Hyperion,” his second 
prose work, he gave a poetic diary of his wanderings abroad. 
Its style is somewhat dainty and artificial, but in excellent 
keeping with its quaint scholarship. It repeats old legends, 
translates delightful lyrics, indulges in easy criticism, abounds 
in graphic descriptions, and admirably reproduces the spirit of 
German life. Now and then a serious reflection affords us a 
glimpse into the depths of thought and feeling beneath the 
facile narrative. The book is still eagerly bought, we are told, 
at the principal points it commemorates. 

In 1836 Longfellow returned to this country, and took up 
his residence in the Craigie house in Cambridge. Though it 
already possessed historic interest as at one time Washington’s 
headquarters, it was destined to become still more illustrious 
as the home of the poet. The beauty of its surroundings ren¬ 
dered it no unfit abode for the Muses. With reference to its 
former majestic occupant, the poet says: — 

“ Once, ah, once within these walls, 

One whom memory oft recalls, 

The Father of his Country, dwelt. 

And yonder meadows broad and damp 
The fires of the besieging camp 
Encircled with a burning belt.” 

For seventeen years he faithfully discharged his duties as 
head of the department of modern languages at Harvard. His 
position was not a sinecure. Though his lectures were pre¬ 
pared with great care, they were seldom written out in full. 
He cared but little for the soulless, mechanical learning that 
consists in a knowledge of insignificant details. He wrought 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 


199 


with profounder spirit. He introduced his students into the 
beauty of foreign literature, and awakened a desire for literary 
study and culture. 

He became a prominent figure in the remarkable group of 
Cambridge scholars and writers. His friendships were select 
and warm. His relations with Felton, Hawthorne, and Sum¬ 
ner were particularly close, as may be seen in the series of son¬ 
nets entitled “Three Friends of Mine.” There is deep pathos 
in the concluding lines : — 


“ But they will come no more, 

Those friends of mine, whose presence satisfied 
The thirst and hunger of my heart. Ah me! 

They have forgotten the pathway to my door! 

Something is gone from nature since they died, 

And summer is not summer, nor can be.” 

Among his other intimate friends may be mentioned Lowell 
and Agassiz, both of whom find affectionate remembrance in 
his poems. 

In 1839, ^ ie y ear m which “Hyperion” appeared, Long¬ 
fellow published a slender volume of poetry entitled “ Voices 
of the Night.” For the first time the public was able to form 
a fair idea of the qualities of the new singer. The key-note of 
the poems is given in the “ Prelude : ” — 

“ Look, then, into thine heart, and write! 

Yes, into Life's deep stream! 

All forms of sorrow and delight, 

All solemn Voices of the Night, 

That can soothe thee, or affright, 

Be these henceforth thy theme.” 

The poet struck a sympathetic chord, and several of the 
poems have since remained popular favorites. Every poem in 
the collection has a personal interest. “A Psalm of Life,” 
so familiar for two generations, is the voice of courage that 
came into the poet’s heart as he was rallying from the depres¬ 
sion of bereavement. “ The Reaper and the Flowers,” which 


200 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


was the unlabored expression of a long-cherished idea, he wrote, 
as he tells us, “ with peace in his heart, and not without tears 
in his eyes.” The pathetic interest of “ Footsteps of Angels ” 
has already been mentioned. 

Two years later appeared another small volume with the 
title, “ Ballads and Other Poems.” It reveals an expansion of 
the poet’s powers. “ The Skeleton in Armor ” rests upon an 
interesting historical basis. “The Wreck of the Hesperus” 
is written in the old ballad style, the spirit of which it success¬ 
fully reproduces. After the wreck, for example, — 

“At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, 

A fisherman stood aghast, 

To see the form of a maiden fair, 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 

The salt sea was frozen on her breast, 

The salt tears in her eyes; 

And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, 

On the billow r s fall and rise.” 

In “ The Village Blacksmith,” we catch the beauty and 
excellence of a life of humble, faithful labor — 

“ Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, 

Onward through life he goes; 

Each morning sees some task begin, 

Each evening sees it close; 

Something attempted, something done, 

Has earned a night’s repose.” 

The little poem, “ Excelsior,” has a deeper meaning than 
appears on the surface. The poet’s intention, as explained by 
himself, was “ to display, in a series of pictures, the life of a 
man of genius, resisting all temptations, laying aside all fears, 
heedless of all warnings, and pressing right on to accomplish 
his purpose.” 

In these two initial volumes we have the fundamental char¬ 
acteristics of Longfellow’s verse. His poetry afterwards swept 
a wide range; he undertook more ambitious themes, and gained 
in amplitude of genius. But in its essential features, his po- 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 


201 


etry always retained the same qualities. His verse is simple, 
smooth, melodious, serious. He had learned from German 
lyrists — Heine, Muller, Uhland — the effectiveness of simple 
measures; and no other poetic forms would have been suited 
to his range of thought and emotion. His poetry was but the 
reflex of the man himself. To use the words of Curtis, “ What 
he was to the stranger reading in distant lands, by — 

‘ The long wash of Australasian seas,’ 

that he was to the most intimate of his friends. His life and 
character were perfectly reflected in his books. There is no 
purity, or grace, or feeling, or spotless charm in his verse which 
did not belong to the man.” 

In Europe he steeped himself in mediaeval literature. He 
familiarized himself with its wonderful legends. He breathed 
the romantic spirit that had recently brought new life into the 
literature of Germany, France, and England. Discarding con¬ 
ventionality, he strove to be true to nature. With true poetic 
discernment, he pointed out the beauty and pathos of human 
life. His poetry does not display erratic brilliancy; it does 
not suddenly blaze out in meteoric splendor, and then sink into 
darkness. It breathes an atmosphere of faith, hope, and cour¬ 
age. Longfellow does not indeed rise to the rank of the great¬ 
est masters of song. But whatever he has lost in admiration, 
he has more than gained in the higher tribute of love. 

The year 1843 is notable in the poet’s life for three things. 
The first was the publication of “ The Spanish Student,” a 
pleasant drama intended for reading rather than acting. Its 
characters are drawn with sufficient clearness ; and Preciosa, 
the gypsy dancing-girl, is a charming creation. The play ex¬ 
hibits the poet’s intimate knowledge of Spanish character and 
customs, and is full of interesting incident and passionate 
poetry. The second event was the appearance of his small 
collection of “Poems on Slavery.” He was not. an agitator; 
his modest, retiring nature unfitted him for the tasks of a bold. 


202 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


popular leader. But, during the agitation of the great slavery 
question, he was not an entirely passive spectator. Through 
his anti-slavery poems, which set forth strongly the darker side 
of slavery, he lent the weight of his influence to the friends 
of emancipation. In the light of subsequent events, the last 
stanza of “The Warning” seems almost like prophecy: — 

“ There is a poor, blind Samson in this land, 

Shorn of his strength and bound in bonds of steel, 

Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand, 

And shake the pillars of this Commonweal, 

Till the vast Temple of our liberties 
A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies.” 

The third event of the year was the poet’s marriage to Miss 
Frances Elizabeth Appleton of Boston, the original of Mary 
Ashburton in “ Hyperion.” She was fitted in mind and person 
to walk at the poet’s side; and years afterwards, when sur¬ 
rounded by her five children, she was described as a Cornelia 
in matronly beauty and dignity. 

In 1845 appeared “ Poets and Poetry of Europe,” a large 
volume containing nearly four hundred translations from ten 
different languages. In its preparation, which occupied him 
nearly two years, he had the assistance of his friend Professor 
Felton. In December of the same year he published “ The 
Belfry of Bruges, and Other Poems,” in which appears some 
of his best work. The initial poem and “ Nuremberg” are ad¬ 
mirable “ poems of places.” “ The Day is Done ” has long 
been a general favorite ; and, excepting the unfortunate simile 
in the first stanza, it is almost faultless in its simplicity and 
beauty. “ The Arsenal at Springfield ” deservedly ranks among 
the best of his shorter poems. It is quite “warlike against 
war,” and expresses faith in its ultimate banishment from the 
earth: — 

“Down the dark future, through long generations, 

The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease; 

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 

I hear once more the voice of Christ say ‘ Peace.’ ” 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 


203 


Among the other poems of this collection deserving es¬ 
pecial notice is “ The Old Clock on the Stairs.” The old- 
fashioned country-seat commemorated in the poem was the 
homestead of Mrs. Longfellow’s maternal grandfather, whither 
the poet went for a short time after his marriage in 1843. 

Two years later appeared “ Evangeline,” which Holmes re¬ 
gards as our author’s masterpiece, — a judgment sustained by 
general opinion. The story Longfellow owed to Hawthorne, 
to whom he gracefully wrote after the publication and success 
of the poem : “ I thank you for resigning to me that legend of 
Acady. This success I owe entirely to you, for being willing 
to forego the pleasure of writing a prose tale which many peo¬ 
ple would have taken for poetry, that I might write a poem 
which many people take for prose.” The metre is dactylic 
hexameter, which has had great difficulty in naturalizing itself 
in English poetry. Longfellow, who had made previous ex¬ 
periments in this measure, did not share the common preju¬ 
dice against it. “The English world,” he wrote, “is not yet 
awake to the beauty of that metre.” He was, perhaps, encour¬ 
aged by the success of Goethe in “ Hermann and Dorothea.” 
The result has amply sustained the poet’s judgment. The 
story could hardly have been so delightful in any other meas¬ 
ure. He has himself made the test in a single passage. In 
the second canto of Part Second, the singing of the mocking¬ 
bird is described as follows : — 

“ Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, 
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o’er the water, 

Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen. 
Plaintive at first were the tones, and sad; then soaring to madness 
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes. 

Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation; 

Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision, 

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops 
Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches.” 

In comparison with this, how tame the following rendering 
in the common English rhymed pentameter : — 


204 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


“ Upon a spray that overhung the stream, 

The mocking-bird, awaking from his dream, 

Poured such delirious music from his throat 
That all the air seemed listening to his note. 

Plaintive at first the song began, and slow; 

It breathed of sadness, and of pain and woe; 

Then, gathering all his notes, abroad he flung 
The multitudinous music from his tongue, — 

As, after showers, a sudden gust again 

Upon the leaves shakes down the rattling rain.” 

It is not to be supposed that Longfellow escaped criticism. 
His success and popularity excited envy, and Poe especially 
was relentless in his attacks. He labored hard but ineffectu¬ 
ally to establish his favorite charge of plagiarism. The trans- 
cendentalists were scant in their praise. Though Longfellow 
counted some of their leading representatives among his friends, 
his poetry shows scarcely a trace of transcendentalism. His 
simple themes and familiar truths seemed elementary' and 
trivial to the transcendentalists. The editor of the Dial irrev¬ 
erently described, him as “ a dandy Pindar.” But the poet en¬ 
dured harsh criticism with rare equanimity. He never replied 
to any criticicism, no matter how unjust or severe. When 
critiques were sent to him, he read only those which were 
written in a pleasant spirit. The rest he dropped into the 
fire; and “in that way,” he remarked, “one escapes much 
annoyance.” 

After the publication of “ Evangeline,” the poet’s muse was 
less productive for a time; and he himself lamented that the 
golden days of October, usually so fruitful in verse, failed to 
stir him to song. Still, it was not a period of complete inac¬ 
tivity. He amused himself in writing the prose tale of “ Kav- 
anagh,” which, in spite of Hawthorne’s generous praise, has 
remained the least popular of his works. By 1849 h e accumu¬ 
lated sufficient verse for a slender volume, which was published 
under the title of “The Seaside and the Fireside.” Among the 
sea-pieces, which show the poet’s fondness for the ocean, “The 
Building of the Ship” is most worthy of notice. It is mod- 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 


205 


elled after Schiller’s “ Song of the Bell; ” and in its details, as 
in its general plan, it is admirably conceived and wrought out. 

“ His heart was in his work, and the heart 
Giveth grace unto every art.” 

Among the fireside pieces, “ Resignation ” has been read 
with tears in many a mourning household. It was written after 
the death of the poet’s little daughter Fanny, of whom he 
noted in his diary: “ An inappeasable longing to see her comes 
over me at times, which I can hardly control.” He found con¬ 
solation only in the great truth of immortality. 

“ There is no death ! What seems so is transition; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call death. 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule.” 

His numerous works now brought the poet a comfortable 
income. With increasing devotion to literary work, he found 
the exacting duties of the class-room irksome. Accordingly, 
in 1854, he resigned his chair in -Harvard College. He was 
in his intellectual prime, and several of his greatest works were 
yet to be written. About the time of his resignation the idea 
of “Hiawatha” occurred to him; and he wrote in his diary: 
“ I have at length hit upon a plan for a poem on the American 
Indians, which seems to me the right one and the only. It is 
to weave together their beautiful traditions into a whole. I 
have hit upon a measure too, which I think the right and only 
one for such a theme.” The peculiar trochaic metre, with its 
repetitions and parallelisms, was suggested by the Finnish epic 
“ Kalevala,” to which also, in some slight degree, he seems 
otherwise indebted. The legends of the poem were taken from 
Schoolcraft. Longfellow worked at the poem with great inter- 


20 6 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


est and industry, and finished it in nine months. But, as it 
approached completion, he was troubled with grave doubts as 
to the success of his novel venture. Its publication in 1855 
created something of a literary sensation. Never before, per¬ 
haps, was a poem so criticised, parodied, and ridiculed. When 
most fiercely assailed, the poet preserved his usual equanimity 
and silence. “My dear Mr. Longfellow,” exclaimed his excited 
publisher, rushing into the poet’s study, “ these atrocious libels 
must be stopped.” Longfellow silently glanced over the attacks 
in question. As he handed the papers back, he inquired, “ By 
the way, Fields, how is 1 Hiawatha ’ selling ? ” “ Wonderfully,” 

was the reply; “none of your books has ever had such a sale.” 

“ Then,” said the poet calmly, “ I think we had better let these 
people go on advertising it.” The poem finally established 
itself as a general favorite — a position which it deserves. To 
remove any doubts, it will be sufficient to read “ Hiawatha’s 
Wooing,” with its familiar opening lines: — 

“ As unto the bow the cord is, 

So unto the man is woman ; 

Though she ’bends him, she obeys him; 

Though she draws him, yet she follows; 

Useless each without the other.” 

At this period the poet was abundant in labors. Scarcely 
was one work off the anvil till another was taken up. After 
the publication of “ Hiawatha,” the success of which was en¬ 
couraging, he turned his attention to a New England colonial, 
theme. “The Courtship of Miles Standish ” rests upon a 
trustworthy tradition. The Pilgrims of Plymouth were less 
austere than the Puritans of Boston. Their sojourn in Holland 
had softened somewhat their temper and manners. The poem 
reproduces the manners of the early colonial times with suffi¬ 
cient accuracy. It is less ideal than “ Evangeline ; ” and its 
realism renders its hexameters more rugged. The reply of 
the Puritan maiden Priscilla, as John Alden was pleading the 
cause of his rival, was not a poetic fiction : — 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 207 

“ But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent language, 
Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival, 

Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter, 
Said, in a tremulous voice, ‘ Why don’t you speak for yourself, John ? ’ ” 

“ The Courtship of Miles Standish ” was published in 1858, 
along with a number of miscellaneous poems, several of which 
deserve especial mention. “ The Ladder of St. Augustine ” 
contains the well-known stanza : — 

“ The heights by great men reached and kept 
Were not attained by sudden flight ; 

But they, while their companions slept, 

Were toiling upward in the night.” 

“ The Two Angels,” a poem of tender pathos, was written, 
as the poet tells us, “on the birth of my younger daughter, and 
the death of the young and beautiful wife of my neighbor and 
friend, the poet Lowell.” For the dark problem of life he finds 
but the one solution of absolute trust in Providence : — 

“ Angels of life and death alike are his; 

Without his leave they pass no threshold o’er; 

Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, 

Against his messengers to shut the door ? ” 

The poem, “ Children,” like the later one, “ Th» Children's 
Hour,” reveals to us the poet’s tender, sympathetic nature : — 

“ For what are all our contrivings, 

And the wisdom of our books, 

When compared with your caresses, 

And the-gladness of your looks? 

Ye are better than all the ballads 
That ever were sung or said; 

For ye are living poems, 

And all the rest are dead.” 


In 1861 an awful calamity befell the poet. His wife was 
so severely burned, in spite of his efforts to extinguish the 


20 8 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


flames, that she died in a few hours. He was for a time pros¬ 
trated by the blow. When he began to recover, he sought, 
like Bryant, relief from his sorrow in the work of translation. 
Throughout life he found pleasure in turning the thoughts of 
foreign poets into his native tongue. His various lyrical ver¬ 
sions are sufficient to fill a good-sized volume. But he now 
gave himself to the serious task of turning Dante’s “ Divina 
Commedia,” of which he had long been a devout student, into 
English verse. The translation closely follows the original, 
and is, perhaps, the most satisfactory version of the great Ital¬ 
ian in our language. 

The first series of “Tales of a Wayside Inn” was published 
in 1863, the two succeeding parts appearing in 1872 and 1873. 
The plan is obviously borrowed from Boccaccio and Chaucer. 
The Wayside Inn was an old tavern at Sudbury, and the char¬ 
acters supposed to be gathered there were all real. The 
youth — 

“ Of quiet ways, 

A student of old books and days,” 

was Henry Ware Wales, a liberal benefactor of Harvard Col¬ 
lege. The young Sicilian was Professor Luigi Monti, an inti¬ 
mate friend, who for many years was in the habit of dining 
with the poet on Sunday. The Spanish Jew was Israel Edrehi, 
who is described as the poet knew him. The theologian was 
Professor Daniel Treadwell. The poet was T. W. Parsons, a 
man of real genius, but of very retiring nature. The musician 
was Ole Bull. The tales are borrowed from various sources,— 
modern, mediaeval, Talmudic, — and many of them possess 
great merit. “ Paul Revere’s Ride ” is written with rare vigor. 
Among the other more notable tales are “ The Falcon of Ser 
Federigo,” “ King Robert of Sicily,” “ Torquemada,” “ The 
Birds of Killingworth,” “ The Bell of Atri,” “ The Legend 
Beautiful,” and “ Emma and Eginhard.” 

Longfellow early conceived the purpose “to build some 
tower of song with lofty parapet.” In 1841 he noted in his 


HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 20Q 

diary : “ This evening it has come into my mind to undertake 
a long and elaborate poem by the holy name of Christ; the 
theme of which could be the various aspects of Christendom 
in the Apostolic, Middle, and Modern Ages.” Though the 
task was long delayed, this lofty purpose was never relin¬ 
quished, and through years of thought it slowly assumed 
definite shape. After nine years he set to work in earnest to 
compose “ The Golden Legend,” which was intended to illus¬ 
trate Christianity in the Middle Ages. It gives a vivid picture 
of the manners of the thirteenth century. The story running 
through “ The Golden Legend ” is taken from the minnesinger 
Hartmann von der Aue. The poem was published in 1851, 
without any intimation of the larger work of which it forms 
the central part. 

Nearly a score of years passed before another part of the 
trilogy of “Christus” appeared. It was properly entitled “The 
New England Tragedies,” and is a sickening record of delu¬ 
sion, intolerance, and cruelty. Unfortunately the imagination 
had but a small share in the work, which is little more than a 
skilful metrical version of official records. It was published 
in 1868 as an independent work, and was received rather 
coldly. Considered in its relation to the larger work, it must 
be judged unfortunate. It is depressing in itself ; it does not 
represent the spirit of modern Christianity ; and it leaves the 
trilogy of “ Christus ” incomplete. 

“ The Divine Tragedy,” which was published three years 
later, in 1871, is a close metrical version of the Gospel history. 
It presents the successive scenes in the life of Christ in a 
graphic and interesting way. The effort to adhere as closely 
as possible to the language of the Gospels has prevented a 
very high degree of metrical excellence. With the publication 
of “ The Divine Tragedy,” the plan of the poet was revealed. 
Though “ Christus ” will always be read with, gentle interest, 
especially “ The Golden Legend,” it can hardly rank among 
his greatest works. 

Of his other poems, only a few can be mentioned. “ The 


210 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


Hanging of the Crane ” is a pathetic picture of the common 
course of domestic life. “ Morituri Salutamus ” is an admi¬ 
rable poem, written for the fiftieth anniversary of the class of 
1825 in Bowdoin College. “ Keramos ” is a second successful 
effort in the manner of Schiller’s “ Song of the Bell.” “ A 
Book of Sonnets 99 shows Longfellow to have been a master 
in that difficult form of verse. The several small volumes of 
lyrics published in the later years of his life, while adding 
little to his fame, showed that the poetic fires within his breast 
were still burning brightly. 

Longfellow had now lived beyond the allotted age of man. 
He had filled out a beautiful, well-rounded life. Both as a 
man and as a poet he had gained the respect and love of two 
generations. But at last, with little warning, the end came. 
On March 15, 1882, he completed his last poem, “The Bells 
of San Bias,” with the words, — 

“ Out of the shadows of night 
The world rolls into light; 

It is daybreak everywhere.” 

A little more than a week later, March 24, he passed away. 
The funeral service, in keeping with his unassuming character, 
was simple. Only his family and a few intimate friends — 
among them Curtis, Emerson, and Holmes — were present; 
but two continents were mourning his death. 

“ His gracious presence upon earth 
Was as a fire upon a hearth ; 

As pleasant songs, at morning sung, 

The words that dropped from his sweet tongue 
Strengthened our hearts, or, heard at night, 

Made all our slumbers soft and light.” 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 





JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 


211 


JAMES R US SELL L O WELL. 

Lowell was more than a writer. His writings, numerous 
and excellent as they are, do not fully represent him. He 
tried to follow his own precept: — 

“ The epic of a man rehearse; 

Be something better than thy verse.” 

None of our literary men were great in so many ways. He 
ranks high as a poet. His critical papers are among the most 
elaborate and excellent produced in this country. He was 
a speaker of no mean ability, and a scholar of wide attain¬ 
ments. But overshadowing all these literary accomplishments 
stands his personality, — a man of strong intellect, wide sym¬ 
pathies, and sterling integrity. 

He appeared among the earlier singers of the century. 
Though influenced for a time, as all young writers are apt to 
be, by favorite authors, Lowell is strikingly original. In his 
earlier verse we detect an occasional note from Tennyson or 
Wordsworth; but his strong intellect soon hewed out a course 
of its own. His mind was tumultuous with the interests of 
his day. He rushed to the combat for truth and freedom with 
abounding zeal. He proclaimed his message in verse distin¬ 
guished, not for harmony and grace, but for vehemence and 
force. He was armed with heroic courage: — 

“ They are slaves who dare not be 
In the right with two or three.” 

He believed in bravely doing his part to right existing 
wrongs ; for — 


212 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


“ God hates your sneakin’ creturs that believe 
He’ll settle things they run away and leave.” 

Lowell was a New Englander, not only by birth, but by 
spirit and affection. He was proud of his Puritan ancestry. 
He loved the landscape of New England and the character of 
its people. This affection gave him a keen insight into the 
strength and weakness of New England character, and made 
him delight in its peculiar dialect: — 

“ For puttin’ in a downright lick 

’Twixt Humbug’s eyes, there’s few can metch it, 

And then it helves my thoughts ez slick 
Ez stret-grained hickory doos a hetchet.” 

Though a broad-minded patriot, he remained throughout 
life a doughty champion of New England. 

The Lowell name has an honored place in the history of 
Massachusetts. ‘ Each generation, since the first settlement 
of the family at Newbury in 1639, ^ as h a d its distinguished 
representative. The city of Lowell is named after Francis 
Cabot Lowell, who was among the first to perceive that' the 
prosperity of New England was to come from its manufactures. 
John Lowell was an eminent judge, and introduced into the 
Constitution the section by which slavery was abolished in 
Massachusetts. John Lowell, Jr., by a bequest of $250,000, 
founded Lowell Institute in Boston. As a family, the Lowells 
have been distinguished for practical sense, liberal thought, 
and earnest character. 

James Russell Lowell was born in Cambridge, Feb. 22, 
1819. His father, as well as his grandfather, was an able and 
popular minister. The poetic strain in Lowell's character seems 
to have been inherited from his mother. She was of Scotch 
descent, had a talent for languages, and was passionately fond 
of old ballads. Thus Lowell’s opening mind was nourished 
on minstrelsy and romance. He early learned to appreciate 
what is beautiful in nature and in life. 

He entered Harvard College in 1835 ; but no part of his 


JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 


213 


fame rests on his record as a student. He had an invincible 
repugnance to mathematics; and he read everything else, it 
has been said, but his text-books. For irregularity in attend¬ 
ing morning prayers, he was suspended for a time ; but prayers 
were then held at sunrise! His genial nature and recognized 
ability made him a favorite among his fellow-students. When 
he graduated, in 1838, he was chosen poet of his class. Then 
followed the study of law. He opened an office in Boston, 
but his heart was not in his profession. Various poets — By¬ 
ron, Shelley, Keats, Coleridge, Tennyson — were more to him 
than his law-books. In his abundant leisure he wrote a story 
entitled “My First Client,” but it is doubtful if he ever got 
that far in a successful legal career. 

While waiting for the clients that never came, he found 
solace in poetry. Love touched his heart, and caused a co¬ 
pious fountain of verse to gush forth. In 1841 he published 
a little volume with the title “A Year’s Life.” Its motto, bor¬ 
rowed from Schiller, gave the key-note to the poetry: “ Ich habe 
gelebt and geliebet” The verse was inspired by Miss Maria 
White, a refined, beautiful, and sympathetic woman, whom the 
poet married three years later, and with whom for nearly a 
decade he lived in almost ideal union. This volume revealed 
the presence of poetic gifts of a high order. 

The next step in Lowell’s career was to become an editor, 
— a calling in which he subsequently achieved enviable dis¬ 
tinction. In company with Robert Carter, he established the 
Pioneer in 1843. It was a literary journal of high excellence. 
Among its contributors were Hawthorne, Poe, Whittier, Story, 
and Parsons, — a galaxy sufficient, one would think, to insure 
success. But only three numbers appeared. The public of 
that time was not distinguished for literary culture. The Pio¬ 
neer was in advance of its day; and, after a brief career, it 
may be said to have died a glorious death. 

In 1844 appeared a second volume of poems, in which the 
hand of a master is apparent. He aims to rise above the 
empty rhymer, — 


214 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


“ Who lies with idle elbow on t»he grass, 

And fits his singing, like a cunning timer, 

To all men’s prides and fancies as they pass.” 

He sings of love, truth, patriotism, humanity, religion, cour¬ 
age, hope — great themes which his large soul expands to meet. 
His verse may be at times exuberant and rhetorical, but it em¬ 
bodies virile power of thought and emotion. The fundamental 
principles, not only of all his poetry, but of his character, are 
found in this volume. In “ An Incident in a Railroad Car ” 
we see his sense of human worth, regardless of the accidents 
of fortune: — 

“ All that hath been majestical 
In life or death, since time began, 

Is native in the simple heart of all, 

The angel heart of man. 

And thus, among the untaught poor, 

Great deeds and feelings find a home, 

That cast in shadow" all the golden lore 
Of classic Greece and Rome.” 

He had unwavering confidence .in the indestructible power 
of truth. In “A Glance Behind the Curtain,” he says: — 

“ Get but the truth once uttered, and ’tis like 
A star new-born, that drops into its place, 

And which, once circling in its placid round, 

Not all the tumult of the earth can shake.” 

A well-known passage in “ The Present Crisis ” reveals his 
faith in the watchful care of God : — 

“ Careless seems the great Avenger; history’s pages but record 
One death-grapple in the darkness ’twixt old systems and the Word; 
Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,— 

Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown, 
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.” 

His love of human freedom is revealed in the poem “ On 
the Capture of Fugitive Slaves near Washington”: — 


JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL . 


215 


“ He’s true to God who’s true to man; wherever wrong is done, 

To the humblest and the weakest, ’neath the all-beholding sun, 

That wrong is also done to us; and they are slaves most base, 
Whose love of right is for themselves, and not for all their race.” 

These are all characteristic themes; and because they came 
from the poet’s heart, we find in subsequent poems the same 
truths presented again and again in richly varied language. 

With his strong, positive nature, it was natural for Lowell 
to take part in the slavery agitation of the time. When it cost 
him unpopularity, he had the courage of his convictions. He 
acted as he wrote : — 

“ Then to side with Truth is noble when we share her wretched crust, 
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and ’tis prosperous to be just.” 

The first series of “ The Biglow Papers ” belongs to the 
period of the Mexican War; the second series, to the period 
of the Civil War. In these poems, written in what he calls 
the Yankee dialect, Lowell gives free rein to all his resources 
of argument, satire, and wit. He hits hard blows. A forcible 
truth is sometimes clothed in homely language : — 

“ Laborin’ man an’ laborin’ woman 
Hev one glory an’ one shame. 

Ev’y thin’ that’s done inhuman 
Injers all on ’em the same.” 


The “pious editor,” who reverences Uncle Sam, “partic’- 
larly his pockets,” confesses his creed : — 

“ I du believe in prayer an’ praise 
To him that hez the grantin’ 

O’ jobs, — in every thin’ thet pays, 

But most of all in Cantin’ ; 

This doth my cup with marcies fill, 

This lays all thought o’ sin to rest,— 

I don't believe in princerple, 

But O, I du in interest.” 


216 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


The little poem “ What Mr. Robinson Thinks ” was a pal¬ 
pable hit, with its refrain : — 

“ But John P. 

Robinson he 

Sez he wunt vote for Guvener B.” 

These lines took hold of the public fancy, and were re¬ 
peated in season and out of season. It is said that Mr. Rob¬ 
inson, who was a worthy man, went abroad to get away from 
the sound of his own name. But on going to his hotel in 
Liverpool, the first thing he heard was a childish voice re¬ 
peating : — 

“ But John P. 

Robinson he.” 


“ The Biglow Papers ” deservedly ranks as our best politi¬ 
cal satire. 

In 1848 appeared “The Vision of Sir Launfal,” which must 
always remain his most popular work. It is a treatment of 
the old legend of the Holy Grail; and, excepting Tennyson’s 
idyl, nothing more worthy of the theme has ever been written. 
The poem was written at white-heat. It was composed sub¬ 
stantially in its present form in forty-eight hours, during which 
the poet scarcely ate or slept. We find in it a full expression 
of his poetic powers, — his energetic thought, his deep emotion, 
his vigorous imagination. In the preludes the poet’s love of 
nature is apparent, as well as the strong moral feeling that 
formed the substratum of his character. What lines are oftener 
quoted than these : — 

“And what is so rare as a day in June? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days.” 


And the following verses contain a vigorous bit of moral¬ 
izing : — 


JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 


217 


“ For a cap and bells our lives we pay, 

Bubbles we buy with a whole soul’s tasking 
’Tis heaven alone that is given away, 

’Tis only God may be had for the asking.” 

The same year appeared “A Fable for Critics,” a literary 
satire without the savagery of Byron’s “English Bards and 
Scotch Reviewers,” or the malignancy of Pope’s “ Dunciad.” 
It is a humorous review of the leading American authors of 
the day; but beneath the fun there is a sober judgment that 
rarely erred in its estimates. Along with atrocious rhymes 
and barbarous puns, there are many felicitous characteriza¬ 
tions. He calls Bryant, to whom he was scarcely just, an 
iceberg : — 

“ If he stir you at all, it is just, on my soul, 

Like being stirred up with the very North Pole.” 

He hits off Poe as follows : — 

“There comes Poe, with his raven, like Barnaby Rudge, 
Three-fifths of him genius, and two-fifths sheer fudge.” 

He was quite as severe to himself as to any of his contem¬ 
poraries; and, as will be seen from the following lines, he was 
not blind to his own peculiarities : — 

“ There is Lowell, who’s striving Parnassus to climb — 

• With a whole bale of isms tied together with rime; 

He might get on alone, spite of brambles and boulders, 

But he can’t with that bundle he has on his shoulders; 

The top of the hill he will ne’er come nigh reaching, 

Till he learns the distinction ’twixt singing and preaching; 

His lyre has some chords that wxmld ring pretty well, 

But he’d rather by half make a drum of the shell, 

And rattle away till he’s old as Methusalem, 

At the head of a march to the last New Jerusalem.” 

The poem is loose in construction and unsymmetrical in 
form, and it is to be regretted that the poet never thought it 
worth while to bring it into artistic shape. It was first pub- 


2 I 8 


AMERICAN- LITERATURE. 


lished anonymously, but its authorship was soon fixed. Lowell 
was the only man in America who could have written it. 

A larger career was now opening before him. Up to the 
time of her death, in 1853, his wife, in their beautiful home at 
Elmwood, had stimulated him to high endeavor. Always fond 
of reading, and blessed with a capacious memory, he had ac¬ 
quired a wide range of knowledge. In the winter of 1854-55, 
he delivered before the Lowell Institute a course of twelve 
lectures on the British poets. Disdaining the arts of the popu¬ 
lar orator, he placed his reliance for success, where alone it 
can permanently rest, on genuine merit. He read his lectures 
in an earnest, manly way; and their learning, thought, critical 
insight, and poetic feeling gave to every discourse an inde¬ 
scribable charm. 

In 1855, on the resignation of Longfellow, he was appointed 
professor of modern languages at Harvard, with a leave of ab¬ 
sence for two years, to study abroad. He resided chiefly at 
Dresden, and gave himself to a methodical course of reading 
in European literature. Like all men of large mould, he had 
an immense capacity for assimilation. When he returned to 
America in 1857, and entered upon his duties, he was not un¬ 
worthy to occupy the chair of his illustrious predecessor. He 
was an admirable lecturer; and while his ability commanded the 
respect, his ready kindness won the affection, of the students. 
Harvard has never had, perhaps, a more popular professor. 

The year 1857 witnessed two important events in the life 
of Lowell. The first was his marriage to Miss Frances Dunlop 
of Portland, Me., who had superintended the education of his 
daughter during his absence abroad. The second was the estab¬ 
lishment of the Atlantic , of which he became editor-in-chief. 
His contributions were in both prose and poetry, and were, it is 
needless to say, of a high order. He continued as editor till 
1862,* when he was succeeded by Mr. Fields. But his editorial 
career was not yet ended. In 1864 he took charge of the North 
American Review , of which he remained editor till 1873. He 
was particularly kind to young writers, and lost no opportunity 
to speak a word of encouragement. 


JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 


219 


In 1864 he published a volume in prose, entitled “ Fireside 
Travels,” containing “Cambridge Thirty Years Ago,” “A 
Moosehead Journal,” and “Leaves from My Journal in Italy 
and Elsewhere.” It is a delightful book, full of wit, wisdom, 
and exuberant fancy. The tide of a full, strong life is reflected 
in its pages. Here is a characteristic bit of description: “The 
chief feature of the place was its inns, of which there were five, 
with vast barns and courtyards, which the railroad was to make 
as silent and deserted as the palaces of Nimroud. Great white- 
topped wagons, each drawn by double files of six or eight 
horses, with its dusty bucket swinging from the hinder axle, 
and its grim bull-dog trotting silent underneath, or in midsum¬ 
mer panting on the lofty perch beside the driver (how elevated 
thither baffled conjecture), brought all the wares and products of 
the country to their mart and seaport in Boston. These filled 
the inn-yards, or were ranged side by side under broad-roofed 
sheds; and far into the night the mirth of their lusty drivers 
clamored from the red-curtained bar-room, while the single 
lantern, swaying to and fro in the black cavern of the stables, 
made a Rembrandt of the group of ostlers and horses below.” 

“Under the Willows,” a volume of poems published in 
1869, exhibits Lowell’s poetic genius at the zenith of its power. 
It is less luxuriant in manner, and its chaster form adds force 
to its wisdom and pathos. There is scarcely a poem that is not 
remarkable for some beauty. Sometimes it is a tender recol¬ 
lection of the past; again it is some weighty truth or telling 
apologue; or it is a bit of irresistible pathos or prophetic asser¬ 
tion of divine truth. The poems were composed at intervals 
through many years, according to his usual method: — 

“ Now, I’ve a notion, if a poet 
Beat up for themes, his verse will show it; 

I wait for subjects that hunt me, 

By day or night won’t let me be, 

And hang about me like a curse, 

Till they have made me into verse.” 

In “The First Snow-Fall” there is a fine touch of pathos: — 


220 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


“ Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her; 

And she, kissing back, could not know 
That my kiss was given to her sister, 

Folded close under deepening snow.” 

The following triplet, from “ For an Autograph,” is a noble 
summons to lofty purpose: — 

“ Greatly begin ! though thou have time 
But for a line, be that sublime, — 

Not failure, but low aim, is crime.” 

“ Mahmood the Image-Breaker ” teaches the incomparable 
worth of human integrity: — 

“ Little were a change of station, loss of life or crown, 

But the wreck were past retrieving, if the Man fell down.” 

The Commemoration Odes of Lowell are the best of their 
kind written in this country. Perhaps they have never been 
surpassed. He seized upon special occasions to pour forth a 
rich strain of patriotic reflection, eloquent thought, and poetic 
feeling and imagery. The “Ode Recited at the Harvard Com¬ 
memoration,” in memory of the ninety-three graduates who had 
died in the Civil War, appealed most strongly to the poet’s 
heart. Among those who had lost their lives were eight rela¬ 
tives of the poet. As he recited the poem, it is said that his 
face, always expressive, was almost transfigured with the glow 
of an inward light. Its exalted key is struck in the opening 
lines: — 

“ Weak-winged is song, 

Nor aims at that clear-ethered height 
Whither the brave deed climbs for light : 

We seem to do them wrong, 

Bringing our robin’s leaf to deck their hearse 
Who in warm life-blood wrote their nobler verse.” 

The “ Ode ” read at the one hundredth anniversary of the 
fight at Concord bridge is an eloquent paean of freedom. It 
pays a glowing tribute to “ the embattled farmers: ” — 


JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 


221 


“ They were men 

Schooled the soul’s inward gospel to obey, 

Though leading to the lion’s den.” 

“Under the Old Elm,” read at Cambridge on the hundredth 
anniversary of Washington’s taking command of the American 
army, eloquently commemorates the character and achieve¬ 
ments of the “ Father of his Country : ” — 

“ Out of that scabbard sprang, as from its womb, 

Nebulous at first but hardening to a star, 

Through mutual share of sunburst and of gloom, 

The common faith that made us what we are.” 

“ The Cathedral ” is Lowell’s longest poem. Somewhat 
uneven in its merits, it contains many noble passages. It 
might be made to illustrate nearly every prominent point in 
the poet’s character. As compared with his earlier writings, 
it reveals the presence of a slightly conservative tendency. 
The leading incidents of the poem are connected with a visit 
to the cathedral of Chartres. He was filled with admiration 
at the consecrated spirit of a former age that sought expres¬ 
sion in such a miracle of stone : — 

“ I gazed abashed, 

Child of an age that lectures, not creates, 

Plastering our swallow-nests on the aw T ful Past, 

And twittering round the work of larger men, 

As we had builded what we but deface.” 

His deep religious nature is evident throughout the poem, 
though his creed is larger than that of his Puritan ancestors. 
Softened by the touch of an all-embracing sympathy and char¬ 
ity, he finds that — 

“ God is in all that liberates and lifts, 

•In all that humbles, sweetens, and consoles.” 

In “ The Cathedral ” we have a striking instance of the 
wilful caprice with which his muse sometimes startles us. At 


222 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


the hotel in Chartres he met two Englishmen who mistook 
him for a Frenchman. 

“ My beard translated me to hostile French ; 

So they, desiring guidance in the town, 

Half condescended to my baser sphere, 

And, clubbing in one mess their lack of phrase, 

Set their best man to grapple with the Gaul. 

‘ Esker vous ate a nabitang ? ’ he asked : 

‘ I never ate one; are they good ? ’ asked I; 

Whereat they stared, then laughed, and we were friends.” 


Considered in the most favorable light, the poet’s wit on 
this occasion can hardly be said to display particular bril¬ 
liancy ; and to introduce the incident into a grave and ele¬ 
vated poem is a bit of freakishness that makes “ the judicious 
grieve.” 

Of Lowell’s prose writings, there is not space to speak in 
detail. The three volumes entitled “ My Study Windows ” 
and “ Among My Books ” (two volumes) are made up of es¬ 
says. “ My Study Windows ” is of greatest general interest. 
It opens with three delightful papers entitled “ My Garden 
Acquaintance,” “ A Good Word for Winter,” and “ On a Cer¬ 
tain Condescension in Foreigners.” In these the keen wit, 
kindly humor, and shrewd observation of Lowell appear at 
their best. Of his various garden acquaintance, to give a 
single quotation, he says : “ If they will not come near enough 
to me (as most of them will), I bring them close with an opera- 
glass, — a much better weapon than a gun. I would not, if I 
could, convert them from their pretty pagan ways. The only 
one I sometimes have savage doubts about is the red squirrel. 
I think he oologizes. I know he eats cherries (we counted! five 
of them at one time in a single tree, the stones pattering down 
like the sparse hail that preludes a storm), and that he gnaws 
off the small ends of pears to get at the seeds. He steals the 
corn from under the noses of my poultry. But what would 
you have ? He will come down upon the limb of the tree I 


JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 


223 


am lying under till he is within a yard of me. He and his 
mate will scurry up and down the great black walnut for my 
diversion, chattering like monkeys. Can I sign his death- 
warrant who has tolerated me about his grounds so long? Not 
I. Let them steal, and welcome. I am sure I should, had I 
had the same bringing up and the same temptation. As for 
the birds, I do not believe there is one of them but does more 
good than harm ; and of how many featherless bipeds can this 
be said ? ” 

Lowell occupies a foremost place among American critics. 
For the critic’s office he was eminently qualified, both by natural 
gifts and broad scholarship. The two volumes of “ Among My 
Books ” are devoted chiefly to elaborate studies of “ Dryden,” 
“ Shakespeare Once More,” “ Dante,” “ Spenser,” “ Words¬ 
worth,” “Milton,” and “Keats.” In each case a wide range 
of reading is made to contribute its treasures. The essays, 
supplied with numerous foot-notes, are learned to a degree 
that is almost oppressive. Lowell displays a deep insight and 
great soundness of judgment. His style is rich in allusion. 
At times it is epigrammatic; and again it is not unlike his own 
description of Milton’s style. “ Milton’s manner,” he says, “ is 
very grand. It is slow, it is stately, moving as in triumphal 
procession, with music, with historic banners, with spoils from 
every time and region; and captive epithets, like huge Si- 
cambrians, thrust their broad shoulders between us and the 
pomp they decorate.” Now and then his humor lights up a 
sentence or paragraph in the most'unexpected way. 

As a few other of our literary men, Lowell was appointed 
to represent this country abroad. His diplomatic career de¬ 
tracts nothing from his reputation. He was appointed minister 
to Spain in 1877, and three years later minister to England. 
Without any occasion to display great diplomatic gifts, he filled 
his post faithfully, and fostered international good feeling. In 
the social and literary circles of England his culture and genius 
gained for him a proud distinction. 

Lowell was frequently called on for addresses. Among his 


224 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


works is a volume entitled “ Democracy and Other Addresses.” 
He was not an orator so much as a refined and scholarly 
speaker. He spoke in an earnest, conversational tone, depend¬ 
ing upon the weight of his utterance to secure the attention 
and interest of his'hearers. He mad.e no use of gesture. He 
did not soar to the heights of impassioned utterance, of which 
we must believe him to have been capable. He did not move 
a great popular assembly, but to the scholarly and cultivated 
he was a delightful speaker. 

Lowell lived beyond the allotted age of three score and ten. 
His latter years were sweetened by the tribute of honor and 
love which a great people united in paying him. He died 
Aug. 12, 1891, recognized at home and abroad as a man of 
high gifts and noble character. He is, perhaps, our best repre¬ 
sentative man of letters. An English critic has fairly expressed 
the feeling abroad: “ No poetic note higher or deeper than 
his, no aspirations more firmly touched towards lofty issues, 
no voice more powerful for truth and freedom, have hitherto 
come to us from across the Atlantic. ” 





JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 







JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


225 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 

Whittier has been called the Burns of New England; and 
that title is not without justification. He owed the first awa¬ 
kening of his poetic talent to the Scottish bard ; and, like him, 
he has cast a glory over the homely scenes of his native 
region. In the choice of his themes he is less a national 
than a sectional poet. Less cosmopolitan than Longfellow and 
Lowell, he is pre-eminently the poet of New England. It is 
the spirit, the legend, and the landscape of New England that 
are reflected in his verse. 

John Greenleaf Whittier sprang from Quaker ancestry, and 
the memory of the wrongs inflicted upon* his sect at an earlier 
day never left him. He was born near the town of Haverhill, 
Mass., Dec. 17, 1807. The house was an old one, surrounded 
by fields and woods; and in front of it, to use the poet’s 
words, a brook “foamed, rippled, and laughed.” The Merri- 
mac River was not far away. He helped to till an unfriendly 
soil, and in his leisure hours he wandered over the hills or 
loitered along the streams. 

Like Franklin, Whittier was a self-made man. His early 
education was limited to brief terms in the district school. He 
was fond of reading, but his father’s library contained only a 
score of tedious volumes. For a number of years the Bible 
was his principal resource for history, poetry, and eloquence; 
and encouraged and aided by his mother, he made its literary 
and religious treasures a permanent possession. 

In spite of the meagre advantages of his frugal home, as 
compared with our present opulence of books and papers, he 
had the wealth of exuberant life and observant eyes. Nature 
became his inspiring teacher. In “The Barefoot Boy,” with 
its childhood memories, he says: — 


226 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


“ I was rich in flowers and trees, 

Humming-birds and honey-bees; 

For my sport the squirrel played, 

Plied the snouted mole his spade ; 

For my taste the blackberry cone 
Purpled over hedge and stone; 

Laughed the brook for my delight 
Through the day and through the night.” 

The monotony of the hospitable farmhouse was relieved 
now and then by the visits of peddlers. Strolling people were 
looked on more indulgently then than now. When Whittier 
was fourteen years old his first schoolmaster brought to the 
Quaker home a volume of Burns, from which he read, to the 
boy’s great delight. It kindled the poetic fire within. “ I 
begged him to leave the book with me,” the poet said years 
afterwards, “and set myself at once to the task of mastering 
the glossary of the Scottish dialect at its close. This was 
about the first poetry I had ever read (with the exception of 
that of the Bible, of which I had been a close student), and 
it had a lasting influence upon me. I began to make rhymes 
myself, and to imagine stories and adventures.” 

In 1826 Whittier made the acquaintance of William Lloyd 
Garrison, who exerted no small influence upon his subsequent 
career. Garrison had established the Free Press at Newbury- 
port. A poem contributed by young Whittier so impressed 
him with its indications of genius that he visited the Quaker 
lad in his home, and warmly urged a cultivation of his talents. 
The visit was not fruitless. The gifted youth resolved to ob¬ 
tain a better education; and to acquire the necessary means, 
which his father was not able to supply, he learned the art of 
shoemaking. In 1827 he entered the Academy in Haverhill, 
and by his genial nature and his literary ability quickly attained 
a position of distinction. 

After two terms at the Academy and a brief interval of 
teaching, he served an apprenticeship to the literary craft by 
editing or contributing to several newspapers. His writings, 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


227 


both in prose and in poetry, attracted attention. Without the 
breadth of culture enjoyed by some contemporary writers who 
afterward became famous, he came to be regarded as a young 
man of great promise. “ The culmination of that man’s fame,” 
the New E?igland Review declared in 1829, “will be a proud 
period in the history of our literature.” 

A wider field soon opened before him. In 1830 George D. 
Prentice gave up the editorial management of the New Eng¬ 
land Weekly Review of Hartford, and Whittier was called to 
succeed him. For a year and a half he edited the paper with 
ability and success. He avoided the coarse personalities which 
at that time disgraced American journalism. He was a strong 
advocate of temperance, freedom, and religion. A resolute 
heart beat under his quiet manner and sober Quaker dress. 
He published in the Revrnv no fewer than forty-two poems, 
most of which he afterwards suppressed. But among those 
retained in his collected works are “The Frost Spirit,” “The 
Cities of the Plain,” and “The Yaudois Teacher.” In 1832, 
on account of ill-health, Whittier severed his connection with 
the Review. 

He took an earnest and active part in the anti-slavery 
movement. He surrendered his literary ambition to what he 
believed the call of duty. He displayed the self-sacrificing 
heroism of a sincere reformer. In his own words: — 

“From youthful hopes, — from each green spot 
Of young Romance and gentle Thought, 

Where storm and tumult enter not, — 

From each fair altar, where belong 
The offerings Love requires of Song 
In homage to her bright-eyed throng, — 

With soUl and strength, with heart and hand, 

I turned to Freedom’s struggling band, — 

To the sad Helots of our land.” 

In 1833 he published a strong pamphlet against slavery, 
entitled “Justice and Expediency; or, Slavery considered with 


228 


A ME RICA AT LITERATURE. 


a view to its Rightful and Effectual Remedy, Abolition.” It 
was printed and circulated at his own expense, costing him a 
considerable part of his year’s earnings. 

In his anti-slavery agitation he more than once encountered 
mob violence in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. In 1837 
he went to Philadelphia to write for the Pennsylvania Freeman , 
of which he became editor a few months later. It was issued 
from Pennsylvania Hall, a large building erected by the anti¬ 
slavery people of the city. The building was subsequently 
sacked and burned by a mob. But in spite of his loss, Whit¬ 
tier continued to issue his paper regularly, until he was forced 
to give up the enterprise by failing health. It was out of his 
own experience that he wrote in “ The Preacher ” : — 

“ Never in custom’s oiled grooves 
The world to a higher level moves, 

But grates and grinds with friction hard 
On granite boulder and flinty shard.” 

Unlike his friend Garrison, Whittier favored political-action. 
He wished to re-enforce moral suasion with the ballot. He 
stoutly supported the several political organizations known suc¬ 
cessively as the Liberty party, Free-Soil party, and Republican 
party, which were opposed to slavery. During all these years 
of agitation, he took advantage of every occasion to send 
forth impassioned anti-slavery verse. In 1849 these poems 
were collected into a volume entitled “Voices of Freedom.” 
Their vehemence, as in “Stanzas,” “Clerical Oppressors,” 
“The Pastoral Letter,” and “The Branded Hand,” almost 
reaches fierceness. Though Longfellow and Lowell wrote no¬ 
table anti-slavery poems, Whittier may justly be considered 
the laureate of the abolition movement. * 

While engaged in the anti-slavery movement, Whittier did 
not wholly give up his purely literary work. The family resi¬ 
dence had been changed to Amesbury, and he depended on 
his pen for support. He was a valued contributor to several 
periodicals, among which were the New England Magazine and 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


229 


the Democratic Review. In these some of his best work ap¬ 
peared. “ Mogg Megone ” and “The Bridal of Pennacook” 
are Indian tales, chiefly noteworthy for their vivid description 
of New England scenery. Of the former Whittier did not 
have a high opinion, and sarcastically described it as “ a big 
Injun strutting about in Walter Scott’s plaid,” which is not far 
from the truth. “ Cassandra Southwick ” is a justly admired 
ballad founded on the persecution of the Quakers in Massa¬ 
chusetts. 

Whittier was intensely democratic in his feelings. He did 
not believe in the divine right of any class to lord it over their 
fellow-men. Through all the disguises of toil, poverty, and sin, 
he recognized the innate worth and natural rights of man. In 
the poem “ Democracy ” he says : — 

“ By misery unrepelled, unawed 

By pomp or power, thou seest a man 
In prince or peasant, — slave or lord, — 

Pale priest, or swarthy artisan. 

Through all disguise, form, place, or name, 

Beneath the flaunting robes of sin, 

Through poverty and squalid shame, 

Thou lookest on the man within. 

On man, as man, retaining yet, 

Howe’er debased, and soiled, and dim, 

The crown upon his forehead set,— 

The immortal gift of God to him.” 

In harmony with this broad human sympathy, he wrote a 
series of poems, unsurpassed of their kind, to which he gave 
the name of “ Songs of Labor.” They are intended to show, — 

« The unsung beauty hid life’s common things below.” 

In these songs the labors of “ The Shipbuilders,” “ The 
Shoemakers,” “The Drovers,” “The Fishermen,” “The Husk- 
ers,” and “ The Lumbermen,” pass before us in idealized form. 

Whittier was never married. But little of his poetry is in- 


230 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


spired by love, the master motive of song. Yet there are indi¬ 
cations, unmistakable and tender, that his life was not without 
its romance. The little poem “ In School Days ” is too nat¬ 
ural and too charming to have been fiction : — 

“ He saw her lift her eyes; he felt 
The soft hand’s light caressing, 

And heard the tremble of her voice, 

As if a fault confessing: 

‘ I’m sorry that I spelt the word; 

I hate to go above you, 

Because ” — the brown eyes lower fell, — 

‘ Because, you see, I love you.’ ” 

And in “ Memories ” we "have a fond picture of a later 
day : — 

“ I hear again thy low replies, 

I feel thine arm within my own, 

And timidly again uprise 
The fringed lids of hazel eyes, 

With soft brown tresses overflown. 

Ah, memories of sw T eet summer eves, 

Of moonlit wave and willowy way, 

Of stars and flowers, and dewy leaves, 

And smiles and tones more dear than they.” 

Whittier does not belong to the bards of doubt. Like 
most of the strong singers of the present century, he recog¬ 
nized the divine presence as existent and operative in all 
things. His verse is filled with the cheer of hope and cour¬ 
age. In “ The Reformer ” he says : — 

“ But life shall on and upward go; 

Th’ eternal step of Progress beats 
To that great anthem, calm and slow, 

Which God repeats. 

Take heart! — the Waster builds again, — 

A charmed life old Goodness hath; 

The tares may perish, — but the grain 
Is not for death. 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


231 


God works in all things ; all obey 
His first propulsion from the night : 

Wake thou and watch ! — the world is gray 
With morning light.” 

It was this faith that sustained him in the midst of detrac¬ 
tion, violence, and loss. In “ Barclay of Ury,” he exclaims : — 

“ Happy he whose inward ear 
Angel comfortings can hear 
O’er the rabble’s laughter ; 

And w T hile Hatred’s fagots burn, 

Glimpses through the smoke discern 
Of the good hereafter.” 

For a dozen years Whittier was a regular contributor to the 
National Era, an organ of the anti-slavery party established 
in 1847. this paper appeared some of his most character¬ 
istic work, both in poetry and prose. His muse had gained in 
breadth of thought and sentiment. It was at this time he 
wrote : — 

“ I love the old melodious lays 
Which softly melt the ages through, 

The songs of Spenser’s golden days, 

Arcadian Sidney’s silvery phrase, 

Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew.” 

Among the eighty poems contributed to the Natiofial Era , 
some of those needing special mention are “ Tauler,” “ Burns,” 
“ Kathleen,” “ Stanzas for the Times,” “ Trust,” “ A Sabbath 
Scene,” “ Calef in Boston,” “ The Last Walk in Autumn,” 
“Ichabod,” and “Maud Muller.” They reach the higher levels 
of song, and give gemlike expression to some noble thought 
or sentiment. “Ichabod,” meaning, as Bible readers will re¬ 
member, “the glory hath departed,” is a dirge over Webster 
for the compromising spirit shown by him in a speech in 1850. 
It is full of suppressed power. 

“ The Last Walk in Autumn ” is a beautiful study of New 
England landscape. It abounds in noble thought, and contains 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


life-like portraits of Emerson, Bayard Taylor, and Sumner. At 
times, as the poet tells us, he longs for gentler skies and softer 
air ; but after all he prefers the vigor of a colder clime: — 

“ Better to stem with heart and hand 
The roaring tide of life, than lie, 

Unmindful, on its flowery strand, 

Of God’s occasions drifting by! 

Better with naked nerve to bear 
The needles of this goading air, 

Than, in the lap of sensual ease, forego 

The godlike power to do, the godlike aim to know.” 

Among the prose contributions to the National Era was a 
series of biographical studies, “ Bunyan,” “ Andrew Marvell,” 
“Richard Baxter,” and others, entitled “Old Portraits,” and 
“ Margaret Smith’s Journal in the Province of Massachusetts 
Bay, 1678-9.” The latter is a kind of historical novel, written 
in the antique style belonging to the period it describes. It 
introduces the leading characters and incidents of the time, 
and reproduces the old colonial life in a very realistic way. 

In i860 appeared a volume of “ Home Ballads, Poems, and 
Lyrics,” which contains a number of notable pieces. “ Skipper 
Ireson’s Ride,” with its refrain and pathetic conclusion, is well 
known: — 

“ So with soft relentings and rude excuse, 

Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, 

And gave him a cloak to hide him in, 

And left him alone with his shame and sin. 

Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 

Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
By the women of Marblehead.” • 

In “ The Shadow and the Light ” the poet seeks an answer 
to the immemorial problem of evil: — 

“ O, why and whither ? — God knows all; 

I only know that he is good, 

And that whatever may befall 

Or here or there, must be the best that could. 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


233 


For he is merciful as just; 

And so, by faith correcting sight, 

I bow before his will, and trust 

Howe’er they seem he doeth all things right.” 

In “ Times,” written for an agricultural and horticultural 
exhibition, the beauty and blessedness of labor are finely 
presented : — 

“ Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; 

Let fortune’s bubbles rise and fall; 

Who sows a field, or trains a flower, 

Or plants a tree, is more than all. 

For he who blesses most is blest; 

And God and man shall own his worth 
Who toils to leave as his bequest 
An added beauty to the earth.” 

The Civil War was repugnant to Whittier’s Quaker prin¬ 
ciples. He looked on war as murder ; and his preference was 
to let the South secede, and work out her destiny as a slave¬ 
holding country. But he was not an indifferent spectator when 
once the issue was joined. The collection of songs, “ In War 
Time,” is pervaded by a sad yet trustful spirit: — 

“ The future’s gain 
Is certain as God’s truth ; but, meanwhile, pain 
Is bitter, and tears are salt; our voices take 
A sober tone ; our very household songs 
Are heavy with a nation’s griefs and wrongs ; 

And innocent mirth is chastened for the sake 
Of the brave hearts that nevermore shall beat, 

The eyes that smile no more, the unreturning feet.” 

He rejoiced at the freedom that at last came to the 
negro : — 

“ Not as we hoped ; — but what are we ? 

Above our broken dreams and plans 
God lays, with wiser hand than man’s, 

The corner-stones of liberty.” 


234 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


The best known of his war poems is “ Barbara Frietchie,” 
which vividly describes an incident that never happened. 
After the termination of the war, Whittier favored a magnani¬ 
mous policy toward the South, and desired that there might 
be “ no unnecessary hangings to gratify an evil desire of 
revenge.” 

“ Snow-Bound,” a winter idyl, is an exquisite description 
of country life in New England two generations ago. It por¬ 
trays the early home of the poet, showing us its modest inte¬ 
rior, and giving us portraits of its various inmates. After the 
boding storm had buried every object beneath the snow : — 

“ A prompt, decisive man, no breath 
Our father wasted ; ‘ Boys, a path ! ’ ” 

At night the spacious fireplace was heaped with wood; 

“ Then, hovering near, 

We watched the first red blaze appear, 

Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam 
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, 

Until the old, rude-furnished room 
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom.” 

Whittier’s mother was a woman of good sense, native re¬ 
finement, and benign face. Here is her portrait: — 

“ Our mother, while she turned her wheel, 

Or run the new-knit stocking-heel, 

Told how the Indian hordes came dowm 
At midnight on Cocheco town, 

And how her own great-uncle bore 
His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. 

Recalling, in her fitting phrase, 

So rich and picturesque and free 
(The common unrhymed poetry 
Of simple life and country ways), 

The story of her early days, — 

She made us welcome to her home.” 


Another inmate is thus sketched : — 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


235 


“ Our uncle, innocent of books, 

Was rich in lore of fields and brooks. 


In moons and tides and weather wise, 

He read the clouds as prophecies, 

And foul or fair could well divine, 

By many an occult hint and sign, 

Holding the cunning-warded keys 
To all the woodcraft mysteries.” 

The maiden aunt is tenderly drawn : — 

“ The sweetest woman ever Fate 
Perverse denied a household mate, 

Who, lonely, homeless, not the less 
Found peace in love’s unselfishness.” 

Of his sister Mary the poet says : — 

“ There, too, our elder sister plied 
Her evening task the stand beside; 

A full, rich nature, free to trust, 

Truthful and almost sternly just, 

Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, 

And make her generous thought a fact, 

Keeping with many a light disguise 
The secret of self-sacrifice.” 

Of his sister Elizabeth, a noble woman of poetic gifts, he 
thus speaks:— 

“ As one who held herself a part 
Of all she saw, and let her heart 
Against the household bosom lean, 

Upon the motley-braided mat 
Our youngest and our dearest sat, 

Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes.” 

Of other portraits and scenes in this admirable poem, 
which deserves to rank with “The Deserted Village ” and 
“ The Cotter’s Saturday Night,” there is not space to speak. 


236 


AMERICAN LITERATURE 


“ The Tent on the Beach,” published in 1867, somewhat re¬ 
sembles Longfellow’s “Tales of a Wayside Inn,” or Chaucer’s 
“Canterbury Tales,” in its structure. The poet and his two 
friends, Bayard Taylor and James T. Fields, encamping on the 
seashore, enliven their sojourn with tales of the olden time. 
The portraits of the party are skilfully drawn ; but most inter¬ 
esting of all is the poet’s sketch of himself : — 

“ And one there was, a dreamer born, 

Who, with a mission to fulfil, 

Had left the Muses’ haunts to turn 
The crank of an opinion mill, 

Making his rustic reed of song 
A weapon in the war with wrong, 

Yoking his fancy to the breaking-plough 

That beam-deep turned the soil for truth to spring and grow.” 

Of the nine stories related in “ The Tent on the Beach,” 
all but two refer to New England themes. 

Though troubled with increasing infirmity, especially with 
deafness, Whittier wore old age gracefully. He continued to 
write to the last. Many of his later poems are pervaded by a 
deep religious spirit. Several of them possess an autobio¬ 
graphic interest, as expressly setting forth the poet’s views of 
God and immortality. A profound faith took away his dread 
of death ; and in “The Eternal Goodness ” he says : — 

“ And so beside the Silent Sea 
I wait the muffled oar; 

No harm from Him can come to me 
On ocean or on shore. 

I know not where His islands lift 
Their fronded palms in air; 

I only know I cannot drift 
Beyond His love and care.” 

A similar trust finds expression in “ My BirthdayIt is 
repeated in the pathetic lines “What the Traveler Said at 
Sunset ” : — 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 


237 


“ The shadows grow and deepen round me, 
I feel the dew-fall in the air; 

The muezzin of the darkening thicket 
I hear the night-thrush call to prayer. 


I go to find my lost and mourned for 
Safe in Thy sheltering goodness still, 

And all that hope and faith foreshadow 
Made perfect in Thy holy will.” 

The leading characteristics of Whittier’s poetry may be 
recognized in what has already been presented. We miss, for 
the most part, a classic finish of style. His verse is vital 
rather than statuesque. Sometimes we meet with false accents 
and faulty rhymes. He does not treat of the great questions 
started by modern research, nor undertake to solve existing 
social problems. From the start he takes his stand in the re¬ 
gion of faith, which finds a solution of all problems in the 
love of God. He loved nature; and while his observation 
was confined chiefly to a part of New England, he has given 
us landscape pictures of almost matchless beauty. 

One of the charms of his verse comes from its sincerity. 
He was no mere artist in verse, seeking themes with prosaic 
calculation, and then polishing them into a cold, artificial lustre. 
With him poetry was not so much an end as a means. He 
used it as his principal weapon in his battle against wrong. 
He made it the medium of passionate truth. His verse has 
a vitality that brings it home to the hearts of men, inspiring 
them with new strength, courage, and hope. 

Modest to a marked degree, Whittier did not fully appre¬ 
ciate the grandeur of his life nor the worth of his verse. He 
had the true dignity of a noble nature. While scorning noto¬ 
riety, he valued genuine sympathy. The loving spirit of his 
verse was exemplified in his daily life. He was sympathetic 
and helpful. His friendships were constant and beautiful. In 
social life he had a kindly humor that rarely found a place 
in his earnest verse. His genius was not eccentric. He was 


238 


AMERICAN LITERATURE . 


a man of conviction, of purpose, of courage. He preferred a 
life of earnest struggle to a life of ignoble ease, — a sentiment 
to which he gave expression in the beautiful autobiographic 
poem “ My Birthday ” : — 

“ Better than self-indulgent years 
The outflung heart of youth, 

Than pleasant songs in idle years 
The tumult of the truth.” 

His last years, as was fitting, were serene. After many 
stormy years, he had at last won an honored place in the 
literature of our country, and, what is better, in the hearts of 
our people. The wisest and best delighted to do him honor. 
His home at Danvers, Mass., became a place of pilgrimage. 
After reaching a ripe old age, he passed away Sept. 7, 1892. 
In the slightly altered words of Longfellow, addressed to the 
“ Hermit of Amesbury ” on his seventieth birthday : — 

“ Thou too hast heard 
Voices and melodies from beyond the gates, 

And spoken only when thy soul was stirred.” 






OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 







OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


239 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

Holmes was the latest survivor of the remarkable group 
of writers who may be said to have created American litera¬ 
ture. He was not the greatest of the group; but there is 
scarcely any other whose works are more widely read. Under 
the present stress of life in America, there are very many per¬ 
sons who would rather be amused than instructed. When an 
author succeeds in both amusing and instructing, he has a 
double claim upon the grateful affection of the public. This 
twofold end Holmes achieved more fully than any of his con¬ 
temporaries. 

He stood aloof, in a remarkable degree, from the great 
movements in which the other New England writers of his 
day were more or less engaged. He had but little sympathy 
with transcendentalism. Instead of depending upon an “ inner 
light,” he placed his reliance, with true Baconian spirit, in 
observation, evidence, investigation. When, as rarely hap¬ 
pened, he attempted to be profound in his speculations, he 
was not notably successful. Conservative in temperament, 
he did not aspire to the rble of a social reformer. His in¬ 
difference to the abolition movement brought upon him the 
censure of some of its leaders. Unswayed by external influ¬ 
ences, he steadfastly adhered to the path he had marked out 
for himself. 

He was one of the most brilliant and versatile of men. 
Though far more earnest than is commonly supposed, he was 
not dominated, as was Emerson, by a profound philosophy. 
His poetry has not the power that springs from a great moral 
purpose. He did not concentrate all his energies upon a sin¬ 
gle department of literature or science. He was a physician, 


240 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE . 


lecturer, poet, essayist, novelist; and such were his brilliant 
gifts that he attained eminence in them all. 

Right or wrong, most persons distrust the judgment and 
earnestness of a man of wit. Accustomed to laugh at his play 
of fancy, they feel more or less injured when he talks in a 
serious strain. They seek his society for entertainment rather 
than for counsel. Holmes well understood this popular pre¬ 
judice; but he was far too faithful to his genius to affect a 
solemnity he did not feel. In his delightful poem “Nux Post- 
ccenatica,” he excuses himself from a public dinner: — 

“Besides — my prospects — don’t you know that people won’t employ 

A man that wrongs his manliness by laughing like a boy ? 

And suspect the azure blossom that unfolds upon a shoot, 

As if wisdom’s old potato could not flourish at its root ? ” 

Holmes was a firm believer in heredity. No small part of 
his writings is devoted to a discussion or illustration of inher¬ 
ited tendencies. Yet he did not take a special interest in his 
own ancestry, though they were of the best New England stock. 
He had, to use his own words, “a right to be grateful for a 
probable inheritance of good instincts, a good name, and a 
bringing up in a library where he bumped about among books 
from the time when he was hardly taller than one of his father’s 
or grandfather’s folios.” He was born in Cambridge, Aug. 29, 
1809; another annus mirabilis , it has been called, as the birth- 
year also of Lincoln, Darwin, Tennyson, and Gladstone. His 
father, the Rev. Abiel Holmes, was a Congregational minister 
of scholarly tastes and attainments. His “Annals of Amer¬ 
ica” is a careful and useful history. Holmes’s mother is de¬ 
scribed as a bright, vivacious woman, of small figure, social 
tastes, and sprightly manners — characteristics that reappeared 
in the son. 

In his “Autobiographical Notes,” only too brief and frag¬ 
mentary, Holmes has given us glimpses of his childhood. He 
was a precocious child, thoughtful beyond his years. He made 
a good record at school, and was fond of reading. Among his 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


241 


favorite books was Pope’s “ Homer,” which never lost its charm 
for him. His reading was fragmentary. “ I have always read 
in books,” he says, “ rather than through them, and always with 
more profit from the books I read in than the books I read 
through; for when I set out to read through a book I always 
felt that I had a task before me ; but when I read in a book it 
was the page or the paragraph that I wanted, and which left its 
impression, and became a part of my intellectual furniture.” 

After a preparatory course at Andover, Holmes entered Har¬ 
vard College in 1825, graduating four years later in what be¬ 
came “the famous class of ’29.” There are scant records of his 
college days. Whatever may have been his devotion to study, 
it is certain that he was not indifferent to convivial pleasures. 
His talent for rhyming led to his appointment as class poet. 
The class feeling was stronger in those days than it is now; 
and, after a time, the “class of ’29” held annual dinners in 
Boston. No one entered into these reunions with greater zest 
than Holmes. Beginning with the year 1851, he furnished for 
twenty-six consecutive years one or more poems for each reu¬ 
nion. The best known of these class poems is “Bill and Joe,” 
which contains, in the poet’s happiest manner, mingled humor 
and pathos: 

“ Come, dear old comrade, you and I 
Will steal an hour from days gone by, 

The shining days when life was new, 

And all was bright with morning dew, 

The lusty days of long ago, 

When you were Bill and I was Joe.” 

After graduation, Holmes began the study of law, and at¬ 
tended lectures for a year. But he found that he was on 
the wrong track, and gave it up for medicine. He attended 
two courses of lectures in Boston, and then went abroad to 
complete his course. He took time to do some sight-seeing, 
and visited England, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. 
But he spent most of his two years abroad in Paris, where he 
gave himself diligently to professional study. He had exalted 


242 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


ideas of his profession — a little better than he carried out. 
“ Medicine,” he said, “ is the most difficult of sciences and the 
most laborious of arts. It will task all your powers of body 
and mind, if you are faithful to it. Do not dabble in the 
muddy sewers of politics, nor linger by the enchanted streams 
of literature, nor dig in far-off fields for the hidden waters of 
alien sciences. The great practitioners are generally those 
who concentrate all their powers on their business.” 

There is an incident in his life while yet a law-student that 
must not be passed over. He had been writing for The Col¬ 
legian a good many verses that were well received. Indeed, to 
borrow his phrase, he had become infected with the “ lead¬ 
poisoning of type-metal.” One day he read that the Navy 
Department had issued orders for the breaking up of the old 
frigate Constitution, then lying at Charlestown. His soul was 
deeply stirred; and, seizing a scrap of paper, he dashed off the 
passionate lines of “ Old Ironsides : ” — 

“ Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 

And many an eye has danced to see 
That banner in the sky; 

Beneath it rang the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon’s roar ; — 

The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! ” 

The stirring words of the poem, copied in the press through¬ 
out the country, found a response in the heart of the people. 
Under the sudden blaze of indignation, the astonished Secre¬ 
tary revoked his order, and the gallant vessel was spared for 
half a century. This result was a remarkable achievement for 
a young man who had just attained his majority. 

In 1836 Holmes opened an office in Boston as a practising 
physician. He was sympathetic, painstaking, and conscien¬ 
tious ; and in a reasonable time he gained a fair practice. In 
spite of his fondness for literature, he continued his profes¬ 
sional studies with unusual diligence and* success. He won 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


243 


several prizes by medical essays. But his scholarly tastes fitted 
him better for a medical lecturer than for a practitioner; and 
in 1838 he was much gratified to be elected Professor of Anat¬ 
omy at Dartmouth College, — a position that required his pres¬ 
ence there only three months of the session. 

The year he opened his office in Boston, he published his 
first volume of verse. From a professional standpoint it was, 
perhaps, an unwise thing to do. People are instinctively averse 
to going to poets for prescriptions. But he was far from indif¬ 
ferent to his reputation as a poet. As between the two, he 
would probably have chosen to go down to posterity famed for 
his gifts in poetry rather than for his skill in medicine. The 
slender volume contained several pieces that have since re¬ 
mained general favorites. His poetic powers matured early; 
and, among all the productions of his subsequent years, there 
is nothing better than “The Last Leaf” — that inimitable com¬ 
bination of humor and pathos. One of its stanzas is a perfect 
gem: — 

“ The mossy marbles rest 
On the lips that he has prest 
In their bloom, 

And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 
On the tomb.” 

His jolly humor nowhere else finds better expression than 
in “My Aunt,” “The September Gale,” and “The Height of 
the Ridiculous.” 

In 1840, the year his connection with Dartmouth College 
ceased, Holmes thought himself well enough established to 
end his bachelorhood. His tastes were strongly domestic. 
Accordingly, he married Miss Amelia Lee Jackson, a gentle, 
affectionate, considerate woman, who appreciated her hus¬ 
band’s talents, and, with a noble devotion, helped him to 
make the most of them. For nearly fifty years her delicate 
tact shielded him from annoyances, and her skilful manage¬ 
ment relieved him of domestic cares. 


244 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


In 1847 Holmes was elected Professor of Anatomy and 
Physiology in Harvard University. The chair was afterwards 
divided, and he had charge of anatomy. He held this position 
for the long period of thirty-five years. He recognized the 
danger of falling into an unprogressive routine. “ I have no¬ 
ticed/’ he wrote to a friend, “that the wood of which academic 
fauteuils are made has a narcotic quality, which occasionally 
renders their occupants somnolent, lethargic, or even coma¬ 
tose.” But he escaped this danger; and, taking a deep inter¬ 
est in his department, he remained a wide-awake, progressive 
teacher to the end. His lectures were illumined with a corus¬ 
cating humor that made them peculiarly interesting. 

About the middle of the century the popular lecture was 
in great vogue in New England. Men of distinguished abil¬ 
ity did not disdain this means of disseminating wisdom and 
replenishing their pockets. Like Emerson, Holmes made lec¬ 
turing tours. Though not imposing in person nor gifted in 
voice, he was much sought after for his unfailing vivacity and 
wit. In the “ Autocrat ” he makes a humorous reference to 
his experience as a lecturer. “Family men,” he says, “get 
dreadfully homesick. In the remote and bleak village the 
heart returns to the red blaze of the logs in one’s fireplace 
at home. 

‘There are his young barbarians all at play.’ 


No, the world has a million roosts for a man, but only one 
nest.” 

The founding of The Atlantic Monthly , the name of which 
he suggested, was an important event in the life of Holmes. 
He was engaged to write for it; and the result was “The Auto¬ 
crat of the Breakfast Table,” perhaps the best of all his works. 
He here revealed himself as a charming writer of prose. The 
“Autocrat” talks delightfully on a hundred different subjects, 
presenting with a careless grace and irrepressible humor the 
accumulated wisdom of years of observation and study. Noth¬ 
ing is too small or too great for his reflections. “There are 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


245 


few books,” as George William Curtis well said, “that leave 
more distinctly the impression of a mind teeming with riches 
of many kinds. It is, in the Yankee phrase, thoroughly wide 
awake. There is no languor, and it permits none in the reader, 
who must move along the page warily, lest in the gay profusion 
of the grove, unwittingly defrauding himself of delight, he miss 
some flower half-hidden, some gem chance-dropped, some dart¬ 
ing bird.” 

Interspersed through the brilliant talk of the “Autocrat” 
are nearly a score of poems, partly humorous and partly seri¬ 
ous. Several of these rank among the poet’s choicest produc¬ 
tions. A special charm is given to each poem by its setting. 
“The Chambered Nautilus” was Holmes’s favorite among all 
his poems. “Booked for immortality” was Whittier’s criticism 
the moment he read it. The last stanza gives beautiful expres¬ 
sion to the aspiration of a noble spirit: — 

“ Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 

As the swift seasons-roll! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past! 

Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 

Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea.” 

The humorous poem “ Contentment ” embodied, as he tells 
us, “the subdued and limited desires of his maturity:” — 

“ Little I ask; my wants are few; 

I only wish a hut of stone, 

(A very plain brown stone will do,) 

That I may call my own; — 

And close at hand is such a one, 

In yonder street that fronts the sun.” 

Other poems from the “Autocrat” deserving special men¬ 
tion are “Musa,” “What We All Think,” “Latter-Day Warn¬ 
ings,” “Estivation,” and, above all these, “The Deacon’s 
Masterpiece.” 


246 


AMERICAN' LITERATURE. 


About the time the Atlantic was founded, the Saturday Club 
came into existence, and numbered among its members Emer¬ 
son, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Lowell, Whittier, Motley, Agassiz, 
and other distinguished literary men of Boston and Cambridge. 
They dined together the last Saturday of every month. A 
more brilliant club had not existed since the days of John¬ 
son and Goldsmith. Holmes took great pride in it, and added 
greatly to its festive meetings. He was a prince of talkers. 
His wise, witty, genial, vivacious talk is said to have been even 
better than his books. He called talking “one of the fine 
arts.” He probably had the Saturday Club in mind when, in 
the “Autocrat,” he defined an intellectual banquet as “that 
carnival-shower of questions and replies and comments, large 
axioms bowled over the mahogany like bombshells from pro¬ 
fessional mortars, and explosive wit dropping its trains of 
many-colored fire, and the mischief-making rain of bon-bons 
pelting everybody that shows himself .’* 

Holmes was strongly attached to Boston, and was really 
its poet laureate. He playfully said that the “Boston State 
House is the hub of the solar system,” and in his heart half 
believed it. He received a proud and affectionate recognition 
from the city. He was expected to grace every great festive 
occasion with his presence, and to contribute a poem to its 
enjoyment. The number of these occasional pieces is surpris¬ 
ing ; they form no inconsiderable part of his' poetical works. 
Of their kind they are unsurpassed. Year after year Holmes 
met the demand upon him with unfailing freshness and vigor. 
But it goes without saying that vers de socidte does not belong 
to the highest order of poetry. It does not sound the deeper 
notes of song, nor entitle the poet, no matter how brilliant may 
be his verse, to rank with those “to whom poetry, for its own 
sake, has been a passion and belief.” 

Holmes was strongly drawn to theological subjects. It 
may be true, as has been suggested, that he inherited “ eccle¬ 
siastical pugnacity; ” but it was not exercised in defending the 
ecclesiastical beliefs and institutions of his ancestors. A theo- 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


247 


logical thread runs through nearly all his prose writings; and 
his uniform antipathy to what he believed to be erroneous 
creeds does more than anything else to give them unity. Yet 
at heart he was a religious man. His anchor was “trust in 
God.” He held to the doctrine of immortality. He looked 
upon this world as a training-school. In his “Autobiographi¬ 
cal Notes,” written in his old age, he says, “ This colony of the 
universe is an educational institution so far as the human race 
is concerned. On this theory I base my hopes for myself and 
my fellow-creatures. If, in the face of all the so-called evil to 
which I cannot close my eyes, I have managed to retain a 
cheerful optimism, it is because this educational theory is at 
the basis of my working creed.” 

“The Professor at the Breakfast Table,” published in 1859, 
is devoted chiefly to a discussion of theological subjects. 
Whatever may be thought of the “Professor’s” views, there 
can be no question about the confidence and the skill with 
which they are presented. The dramatis persona , if one may 
use the phrase, are interesting ; and the death-scene of the Lit¬ 
tle Gentleman is the most pathetic incident in all Holmes’s 
writings. Judged from an artistic standpoint, the “Professor” 
is somewhat below the “Autocrat.” It is less spontaneous, 
being written largely, one might think, to relieve the author’s 
mind of a theological burden. Or, to borrow his own words, 
“The first jui.cb that runs of itself from the grapes comes from 
the heart of the fruit, and tastes of the pulp only; when the 
grapes are squeezed *in the press, the flow betrays the flavor of 
the skin.” 

The third and last of the Breakfast Table series was “ The 
Poet at the Breakfast Table,” which appeared in 1873. It is 
hazardous to attempt to repeat successes; but the result justi¬ 
fied what Holmes called his audacity. The “ Poet ” is a little 
more serious than his predecessors; but while he is perceptibly 
inferior to them in novelty and vivacity, he is still delightful. 
The volume contains in successive cantos “ Wind-Clouds and 
Star-Drifts,” Holmes’s longest and most ambitious poem. 


248 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


“ This poem,” he says, “ holds a good deal of self-communing, 
and gave me the opportunity of expressing some thoughts and 
feelings not to be found elsewhere in my writings.” Shall we 
accept the creeds of “sad-eyed hermits” and “angry con¬ 
claves ” ? 

“ Ah, not from these the listening soul can hear 
The Father’s voice that speaks itself divine ! 

Love must be still our Master ; till we learn 
What he can teach us of a woman’s heart, 

We know not His, whose love embraces all.” 

Holmes’s two principal novels, “ Elsie Venner ” which ap¬ 
peared in 1861, and “The Guardian Angel” which appeared in 
1867, belong to the class of fiction with a purpose. The first 
was designed to illustrate the effects of a powerful pre-natal 
influence; the other, the law of heredity. They have been 
spoken of, much to the author’s chagrin, as “medicated novels.” 
The scenes are laid in New England, the manners of which are 
portrayed with graphic realism. These novels have been criti¬ 
cised as crude in form ; but, in spite of defects of plot, they 
have been widely read. They will, no doubt, be less read as 
interest in their main theme declines ; but “ The Guardian 
Angel,” the better of the two books, will long be deservedly 
popular for its humor and wisdom. 

Holmes did not have much confidence in the biographer’s 
art. “I should like to see,” he says in “The Poet at the Break¬ 
fast Table,” “any man’s biography with corrections and emen¬ 
dations by his ghost.” But, in spite of this distrust, he wrote 
two popular biographies, one of Motley, the other of Emerson. 
Motley was one of his most intimate friends ; and it was not 
unnatural, therefore, that the biography, which was published 
in 1878, should bear somewhat the character of a tribute. His 
temperament hardly qualified him for writing the life of Emer¬ 
son. He was not inclined toward transcendentalism ; and, as 
he acknowledged, he was “ a late comer as an admirer of the 
Concord poet and philosopher.” But, as in all his writings, he 
gave himself conscientiously to the task. A keen analytical 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 249 

spirit took the place of a profound sympathy. The biography, 
which appeared in 1884, is more satisfactory to the general 
public than to the students of Emerson. It is interesting, and 
at times brilliant; but somehow one feels the absence of a 
perfectly sympathetic treatment. 

In 1882, after an incumbency of thirty-five years, he re¬ 
signed his professorship. Four years later he made a visit 
abroad, spending nearly all his time in England. He was 
warmly received in London society. “ He is enjoying himself 
immensely,” wrote Lowell, “ and takes as keen an interest in 
everything as he would have done at twenty. I almost envy 
him this freshness of genius. Everybody is charmed with him, 
as it is natural they should be.” He was honored by the uni¬ 
versities of Edinburgh, Cambridge, and Oxford with degrees. 
The observations of his brief stay abroad he embodied in “ Our 
Hundred Days in Europe.” 

Though now considerably beyond the allotted limit of hu¬ 
man life, Holmes did not give up his literary work. In addition 
to the biography of Emerson, he wrote a third novel, “A Mortal 
Antipathy,” which fell considerably below his previous efforts 
in that line. “ Over the Teacups,” a work after the manner of 
the Breakfast Table series, was written when he had passed his 
eightieth year. It possesses a pathetic interest. The exube¬ 
rant wit and brilliancy of his earlier works are largely replaced 
by the reminiscent soberness of age. “ Tea-cups, ” he said, 
“ are not coffee-cups. They do not hold so much. Their pal¬ 
lid infusion is but a feeble stimulant compared with the black 
decoction served at the morning board.” Yet it was a pleasure 
for him to write ; it gave him occupation in the loneliness of 
age, and kept him in relation with his fellow-beings. The suc¬ 
cessive papers were kindly received, a fact that gave him great 
satisfaction. “ Over the Teacups ” contains “The Broomstick 
Train,” a poem in which the old-time fancy and lightness are 
again apparent. It is not unworthy to be placed by the side of 
“ How the Old Horse won the Bet,” “ Grandmother’s Story of 
Bunker Hill Battle,” and other of his best pieces. 


250 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


But the end was now near, not unheralded by gently failing 
faculties. His last days were made as happy as possible by the 
affectionate remembrance and tender consideration of a large 
circle of friends. He was spared the trial of protracted illness. 
He was able to take his usual walks up to a few days before his 
death. He passed away painlessly in his chair, Oct. 7, 1894. 
Numberless loving tributes were paid to his memory on both 
sides of the Atlantic. 

Holmes was an interesting and lovable man, genial, bril¬ 
liant, witty, and yet deeply earnest withal. His personality is 
reflected in his books in a rare degree. Whatever the presid¬ 
ing genius at the Breakfast Table may be called, — Autocrat, 
Professor, Poet,—we know that it is Holmes himself that is 
speaking. 

“ For though he changes dress and name, 

The man beneath is still the same, 

Laughing or sad, by fits and starts, 

One actor in a dozen parts, 

And whatsoe’er the mask may be, 

The voice assures us, This is he.” 

He might be called the most human of our men of letters. 
He delighted in touching life at many points. He had the gift 
of mechanical ingenuity, and always liked to have something to 
tinker at. He invented the stereoscope, out of which, had he 
sought to do so, he might have made a fortune. He was fond 
of boating ; and the description he gives of his fleet in the 
“Autocrat” was not all fiction. He was fond of a good horse; 
as he said, —•- 

“ An easy gait — two, forty-five — 

Suits me ; I do not care ; — 

Perhaps for just a single spurt , 

Some seconds less would do no hurt.” 

He felt a broad sympathy with his fellow-men ; and, as 
he felt kindly towards them, he took it for granted that they 
would be interested in what he wrote. “ I do not know,” he 
said, “what special gifts have been granted or denied me; but 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 


251 


this I know, that I am like so many others of my fellow-crea¬ 
tures, that when I smile, I feel as if they must; when I cry, I 
think their eyes fill; and it always seems to me that when 
I am most truly myself, I come nearest to them, and am 
surest being listened to by the brothers and sisters of the 
larger family into which I was born so long ago.” This broad 
and tender sympathy will long give him an uncommon hold on 
the hearts of men. 



SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD. 


PROMINENT WRITERS. 

William Dean Howells (born 1837). Began as a writer of verse. For 
a number of years editor of Atlantic Monthly. “The Undiscovered 
Country,” “A Fearful Responsibility,” “A Modern Instance,” and 
“A Woman’s Reason” are among his best works, to which may be 
added a series of farce dramas, including “ The Mouse Trap,” “ The 
Parlor Car,” “ The Register,” etc. 

Henry James (born 1843). Critic and novelist. Originated the class 
of fiction known as “ international ” or “ transatlantic,” and a leader of 
the realistic school of novelists. Author of “ Daisy Miller,” “ The 
Portrait of a Lady,” “ The American,” “ French Poets and Novel¬ 
ists,” etc. 

Edmund Clarence Stedman (born 1833). Poet and critic. Author 
of “ The Doorstep,” “ Alice of Monmouth,” “ The Victorian Poets,” 
“ Poets of America,” etc. 

Richard Henry Stoddard (born 1825). Poet and critic. Author of 
“ The Late English Poets,” “ Loves and Heroines of the Poets,” “ The 
Dead Master,” “ Hymns to the Sea,” etc. 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich (born 1836). A writer of interesting stories 
and lyric verse. Author of “ Babie Bell,” “ The Face Against the 
Pane,” and many society poems; also “ The Story of a Bad Boy,” 
“ Marjorie Daw and Other People,” “ Prudence Palfrey,” “ Stillwater 
Tragedy,” etc. 

Richard Watson Gilder (born 1844). Editor of the Century , and 
writer of polished verse. First volume of poetry, “ The New Day,” 
appeared in 1875, followed by “ The Celestial Passion,” and “ Lyrics.” 

Francis Bret Harte (born 1838). Editor, poet, and story-teller of the 
Rocky Mountains. “ The Heathen Chinee ” acquired for its author 
immediate fame. Among his numerous w'orks may be mentioned 

253 



254 


AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 


“ The Luck of Roaring Camp,” “ The Outcasts of Poker Flat,” 
“ Wiggles,” “ The Story of a Mine,” “ Maruja, a Novel,” etc. 

J. T. Trowbridge (born 1827). A popular novelist and poet. Author 
of “ Phil and His Friends,” a story for boys, “ Laurence’s Adven¬ 
tures,” “ Coupon Bonds,” etc. His best-known poems are “ The Vaga¬ 
bonds,” “ The Charcoal-Man,” and “ Farmer John.” 

Richard Grant White (1821-1885). Shakespearian critic and scholar. 
Author of “Life of Shakespeare,” “Words and their Uses,” and 
“ Every-Day English.” 

Charles Dudley Warner (born 1829). Editor, critic, and essayist of 
rare humor and critical acumen. Has written “ My Summer in a 
Garden,” “ Back-Log Studies,” “ Being a Boy,” and other delightful 
sketches. 

E. P. Whipple (1819-1886). Lecturer and essayist. Wrote “Litera¬ 

ture and Life,” “ Character and Characteristic Men,” “ The Literature 
of the Age of Elizabeth,” etc. 

John Fiske (born 1842). Historian and philosopher. Chief works 
devoted to the study of the origin and progress of the human race. 
Author of “ The Destiny of Man,” “ The Idea of God,” “ Outlines 
of Cosmic Philosophy,” etc. 

James Freeman Clarke (1810-1888). Unitarian clergyman. Author of 
“ Orthodoxy : its Truths and Errors,” “ Ten Great Religions,” and many 
other religious works of great excellence. In collaboration with Emerson 
and Channing he prepared the “ Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli.” 

Edward Everett Hale (born 1822). Essayist, lecturer, historian, and 
preacher. Very active in all movements of reform. Well known 
abroad by his short stories, as well as several longer works. Author 
of “ The Man Without a Country,” “ In His Name,” “ Ten Times One 
is Ten,” etc. 

Frank R. Stockton (born 1834). A humorous and original writer of 
short stories. Author of “ The Lady or the Tiger,” “ Tales out of 
School,” for children, “ Rudder Grange,” “ The Stories of the Three 
Burglars,” “ The Hundredth Man,” etc. 

F. Marion Crawford (born 1854). Son of an American sculptor; re¬ 

sides in Italy. Our most popular novelist abroad. Author of “Mr. 
Isaacs,” “ A Roman Singer,” and the Saracinesca trio, including “ Sara- 
cinesca,” “ Sant’ Ilario,” and “ Don Orsino.” 

Rose Terry Cooke (born 1827). Poet and story-writer. Author of 
“Happy Dodd,” “Somebody’s Neighbors,” “The Sphinx’s Children 
and Other People’s,” “ Poems,” etc. 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD . 


255 


Margaret Deland (born 1857). Author of “The Old Garden and 
Other Verses,” “John Ward, Preacher,” a popular novel dealing with 
theological questions, “ Philip and His Wife,” etc. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett (born 1849). A story-writer. Those most 
widely known are “ That Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” “ A Fair Barbarian,” “ Lit¬ 
tle Lord Fauntleroy,” “ Sara Crewe,” “ Editha’s Burglar,” etc. 

Hjalmer Hjorth Boyesen (1848-1896). A w T riter of verse and stories 
of Norwegian life. Principal works are “ Gunnar, a Norse Romance,” 
“ Falconberg,” “ Ilka on the Hill-Top,” etc. 

Lewis Wallace (born 1827). Statesman, soldier, and writer of thrill¬ 
ing stories. Author of “ The Fair God,” “ The Prince of India,” and 
“ Ben-Hur : A Tale of the Christ.” 

Julian Hawthorne (born 1846). Son of the great novelist. Among 
his novels are “ Garth,” “ Prince Saroni’s Wife,” “ Fortune’s Fool,” 
“ Dust,” etc. He has also written “ Confessions and Criticisms,” and 
“Nathaniel Haw'thorne and His Wife: A Biography.” 

Edward Payson Roe (1838-1887). Clergyman and writer of popular 
but commonplace novels. Among them may be mentioned “ Open¬ 
ing a Chestnut Burr,” “ Barriers Burned Away,” “ Nature’s Serial 
Story,” etc. 

Sarah Orne Jewett (born 1849). Writer of stories treating chiefly of 
New England life and character. Some of her novels are “ Deep- 
haven,” “ Old Friends and New,” “ Country By-Ways,” “ A White 
Heron,” etc. 

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward (born 1844). Poet and story-writer. 
Among her numerous and excellent works are “ Men, Women, and 
Ghosts,” “ The Story of Avis,” “ Old Maid’s Paradise,” “ The Gates 
Ajar,” “ Beyond the Gates,” etc. 

Constance Fenimore Woolson (1848-1894). Grandniece of Cooper, 
and popular writer of stories, sketches, and poems. Author of “ Cas¬ 
tle Nowhere,” “ Rodman the Keeper,” “Anne,” “ East Angels,” etc. 

George W. Cable (born 1844). Writes of Creole life. Author of “ Old 
Creole Days,” “ Madame Delphine,” “ Bonaventure,” “ The Grandis- 
simes,” etc. 

Thomas Nelson Page (born 1853). A popular writer of negro-dialect 
stories. His best-known works are “ In Ole Virginia,” “ Two Little 
Confederates,” “ Marse Chan,” “ $Ieh Lady,” etc. 

Joel Chandler Harris (born 1848). Editor, and writer of negro folk¬ 
lore stories, “Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings,” “ Nights 
with Uncle Remus,” “ Free Joe,” etc. 


256 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Richard Malcolm Johnston (born 1822). Author of “The Dukesr- 
borough Tales,” a series of short stories of Georgia “ Cracker ” life. 

Mary Noailles Murfree (“Charles Egbert Craddock”) (born 
1850). Writes of the mountaineers of Tennessee. Author of “ The 
Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains,” “ In the Tennessee Moun¬ 
tains,” “ In the Clouds,” etc. 

Edward Eggleston (born 1837). Preacher, historian, and novelist. 
Author of “ The Hoosier Schoolmaster,” “ The Hoosier Schoolboy,” 
“ Roxy,” “ A History of Life in the United States,” etc. 

John Burroughs (born 1837). Literary naturalist. Wrote “ Wake 
Robin,” “ Winter Sunshine,” “ Indoor Studies,” etc. 

Charles F. Browne (“Artemus Ward”) (1834-1867). Comic lec¬ 
turer, and author of “Artemus Ward, His Book,” “Artemus Ward in 
London,” etc. 

Samuel L. Clemens (“Mark Twain”) (born 1835). Humorist and 
story-writer. Author of “ Innocents Abroad,” “ Roughing It,” “ A 
Tramp Abroad,” “ Tom Sawyer,” etc. 

Horace E. Scudder (born 1838). Editor, and popular writer of works 
for children. Wrote “ Seven Little People,” “ Dream Children,” 
“ Stories from My Attic,” “ The Bodley Books,” etc. 

A. D. T. Whitney (born 1824). Author of works for young people, in¬ 
cluding “ A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite’s Life,” “ Faith Gartney’s 
Girlhood,” “We Girls,” etc. 

Louisa M. Alcott (1832-1888). Author of “Little Women,” “Little 
Men,” “An Old-Fashioned Girl,” “Jack and Jill,” etc. 

Eugene Field (1850-1896). Journalist, story-writer, and poet. Author 
of “Culture’s Garden,” “A Little Book of Western Verse,” “A Little 
Book of Profitable Tales,” etc. 

Louise Chandler Moulton (born 1835). Story-writer, essayist, and 
poet. Principal works are “ Bed-Time Stories,” for children, “ Swal¬ 
low Flights, and Other Poems,” “Juno Clifford,” “Some Women’s 
Hearts,” etc. 

John Esten Cooke (1830-1886). Soldier, and author of a number of 
romances founded on early life in Virginia and on the events of the 
Civil War. Principal works are “ Henry St. John,” “ Surrey of Eagle’s 
Nest,” “ Hilt to Hilt,” etc. 

Mary V. Terhune (“Marion Harland”) (born 1830). Editor, nov¬ 
elist, and writer on domestic economy. Her novels include “ Alone,” 
“Miriam,” “ Judith,” etc. 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD. 


25; 


Augusta J. Evans (born 1835). Southern novelist. Author of “ St. 
Elmo,” “ Beulah,” “ Vashti,” etc. 

Mary A. Dodge (“Gail Hamilton”) (1838-1896). A writer of much 
vigor. Author of “Woman’s Wrongs,” “Gala Days,” “Country Liv-, 
ing,” “ A New Atmosphere,” etc. 

Abram J. Ryan (1839-1886). A Catholic priest and poet. Author of a 
volume of “ Poems,” widely read in the South. 

Cincinnatus Heine Miller (“Joaquin Miller”) (born 1841). 
“ Poet of the Sierras.” Has written many stories, sketches, and 
poems, chiefly “ Songs of the Sierras,” and “ Songs of the Sun Lands.” 

James Whitcomb Riley (born 1853). Commonly known as “ The 
Hoosier Poet,” his best poems being written in the Indiana or Hoosier 
dialect. Author of “ The Old Swimmin’-Hole,” “ The Boss Girl, and 
Other Sketches,” “ Character Sketches and Poems,” etc. 

Charles G. Leland (born 1824). Author of many books on literary 
subjects, and a series of studies in German-American dialect called the 
“ Hans Breitmann’s Ballads.” 

Will Carleton (born 1845). Author of “Farm Ballads,” “City Bal¬ 
lads,” “ Farm Legends,” and “ City Legends.” Best-known pieces, 
“The New Organ,” “Betsey and I are Out,” etc. 

Sidney Lanier (1842-1881). Critic, musician, and poet. Author of 
“ Tiger Lilies,” a novel of the war, “ The Science of English Verse,” 
“ The Marshes, of Glynn,” “ Sunrise,” “ Corn,” etc. 

Paul H. Hayne (1831-1886). “ The laureate of South Carolina.” Wrote 
“ Face to Face,” “ Love’s Autumn,” “ Earth’s Odors After Rain,” etc. 

Maurice Thompson (born 1844). Critic, essayist, novelist, and poet. 
Author of “ Songs of Fair Weather,” “ Sylvan Secrets,” “ Byways 
and Birdnotes,” “A Tallahassee Girl,” “A Fortnight of Folly,” etc. 

Henry Timrod (1829-1867). A writer of war lyrics, among them “A 
Mother’s Wail,” and “ Spring.” 

Alice Cary (1820-1870). A poet and prose writer. Author of “ Thanks¬ 
giving,” “ Pictures of Memory,” “ The Bridal Veil,” etc. 

Phcebe Cary (1825-1871). Sister of Alice Cary. Wrote many poems, 
but is best known as the author of the hymn “ One Sweetly Solemn 
Thought.” 

Helen Hunt Jackson (1831-1885). Author of “Verses,” and several 
delightful stories, including “ Bits of Travel,” “ A Century of Dis¬ 
honor,” and “ Ramona,” a novel written in the interest of the Indian. 

Emma Lazarus (1849-1887). Poet and novelist. Her most striking 
work is “ The Dance to Death,” a drama representing the persecu- 


258 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


tion of the Jews in the twelfth century. Also wrote “ Songs of a 
Semite,” and “ Alide,” a romance. 

Margaret J. Preston. A story-writer and poet. Principal works are 
“ Silverwood,” a novel, “Old Songs and New,” “ Cartoons,” “ Colo¬ 
nial Ballads,” etc. 

Lucy Larcom (1826-1893). From a mill-hand she rose to be teacher, 
editor, and poet. Wrote “ Similitudes,” “ Childhood Songs,” “ Wild 
Roses from Cape Ann,” etc. 

Celia Thaxter (1836-1894). Wrote of the sea. Author of “Among 
the Isles of Shoals” and “Drift-Weed,” “Poems for Children,” etc. 

Edith M. Thomas (born 1854). A popular poet, and contributor to 
magazines. Wrote “A New Year’s Masque, and Other Poems,” 
“The Round Year,” and “Lyrics and Sonnets.’ 

There are many other writers that deserve mention here; but any 

attempt at completeness would extend this list too far. 


V. 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD . 

(1861-1900.) 

The Second National Period begins with the Civil War, 
and will probably be terminated by important social or 
political changes in the first half of the twentieth century. 
The present time is regarded by many thoughtful persons 
as a period of transition. It is felt that the old order is 
changing. What is to follow as the result of influences 
now at work cannot be clearly discerned. But of one 
thing we may be sure, whatever changes may come will 
be in the line of human progress. Humanity is slowly 
but surely working its way up to greater freedom, intelli¬ 
gence, and goodness. 

As compared with previous periods, literature now ex¬ 
hibits a many-sided activity. Its themes are as varied as 
the interests of our race. Philosophy, history, science, 
fiction, poetry, are more generally cultivated than ever 
before. The literature of the present time is character¬ 
ized by great artistic excellence. The prevailing scientific 
spirit, rejecting the dicta of mere authority, makes truth 
its only criterion. The beliefs and opinions of tradition 
are once more put into the crucible. While there are many 
conflicting theories and creeds, a liberal-minded urbanity 
has replaced the old-time harshness and intolerance. Our 
literature at the present time is diffusive and critical, 

259 


26 o 


AMERICAN LI TER A TURE. 


rather than creative ; and thus it happens that, while we 
have many accomplished writers, there is no great original 
or dominating personality in American letters. 

Most of the writers considered in the previous period, 
though they survived far beyond it, were formed under the 
influences prevailing before the Civil War. In every case 
they struck the key-note, to their literary career before 
1861. But most of the writers belonging to the present 
period were born since that time, or were children while 
the great struggle was going on. They have developed 
their literary taste and activity under the influences then 
and since existing. The Civil War itself, the dividing 
line between the First and Second National Periods, has 
exerted no little influence upon our literature. In spite of 
the effort of self-seeking and narrow-minded politicians to 
perpetuate sectional prejudice, a strong national feeling 
now binds all parts of our country together in an indissol¬ 
uble union. With the abolition of slavery and the settle¬ 
ment of State rights, our civilization has become more 
homogeneous. Our vast railway systems carry the life¬ 
blood of trade and commerce to all parts of our country. 
Our people are united as never before in community of 
interest, and in patriotic devotion to the general welfare. 
These new conditions are favorable to an expansion of 
literature, and tend to give it greater breadth of sympathy. 

But apart from its result in laying a solid foundation 
for national greatness, the Civil War directly occasioned no 
insignificant body of literature. Poetry brought its sweet 
ministrations of comfort or cheer. In our previous studies 
we learned something of the war poetry of Longfellow, 
Lowell, and Whittier. Father Ryan may be regarded as 
the martial laureate of the South. “The Blue and the 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD . 261 

Gray,” by Francis M. Finch, “All Quiet Along the Poto¬ 
mac,” by Ethel Beers, “Dixie,” by Albert Pike, and “The 
Battle Hymn of the Republic,” by Julia Ward Howe, are 
lyrics that still have power to move the heart. The hard¬ 
ships, dangers, and sufferings of the war have been fre¬ 
quently portrayed in novels. The period of reconstruction 
gave rise, as in Judge Tourgee’s “A Fool’s Errand,” to 
interesting and thrilling stories. The war called forth, 
also, numerous historical works. Apart from the histories 
of the war itself by John W. Draper, Horace Greeley, John 
S. C. Abbott, Alexander H. Stephens, Jefferson Davis, and 
others, we have had many biographical volumes, among 
which the “Memoirs” of W. T. Sherman, “Personal Me¬ 
moirs ” of U. S. Grant, and “ Narrative of Military Opera¬ 
tions,” by Joseph E. Johnston, deserve especial mention. 

During the present period the conditions have been 
generally favorable to literature. Our country has con¬ 
tinued its marvellous development. Its population has 
more than doubled, and great States have been organized 
in the far West. Agriculture and manufacture have been 
developed to an extraordinary degree. New cities have 
been founded, and many of the older ones have increased 
enormously in wealth and population. All this has meant 
an increase of prosperity, of leisure, and of culture, the 
conditions antecedent to a flourishing literature. 

Two great educative agencies, the press and the school, 
have kept pace with the material progress of our country. 
Every important interest and every considerable commu¬ 
nity has its periodicals. Our great dailies spread before 
us every morning the news of the world. The influence 
of the newspaper upon the taste, intelligence, and charac¬ 
ter of our people is incalculable. Many of our prominent 


2 62 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


writers to-day have developed their literary gifts in con¬ 
nection with journalism. Our monthly magazines and re¬ 
views, unsurpassed in tasteful form and literary excellence, 
have been greatly multiplied. They powerfully stimulate 
literary activity. They are the vehicles, not only for what 
is most interesting in fiction, poetry, and criticism, but also 
for what is best in history, science, philosophy. Nowhere 
else, perhaps, is there a nation so well informed as the 
people of the United States. 

For some decades the interest in education has been 
extraordinary. The free-school system has been extended 
to every part of our country. Graded and high schools 
are found in every town. The number of colleges, many 
of them open to both sexes, has largely increased. The 
courses of study have been expanded, and brought into 
closer relations with practical life. Some of the older 
institutions, as well as a few new ones with large en¬ 
dowment, have become in fact, as in name, universities. 
Educational journals have been established ; admirable 
text-books have been prepared; and, through the study 
of the history and science of education, the methods of 
instruction have been greatly improved. 

The present is an age of close international relations. 
Submarine cables and fleet steamers bring the various 
nations of the earth close together. With a clearer 
knowledge of one another, and with the common interests 
fostered by commerce, kindlier feelings are developed. 
From time to time the civilized nations of the earth unite 
in great expositions of their choicest products. Minor 
international differences are usually settled by diplomacy 
or arbitration. Thousands of our people go abroad every 
year for pleasure or for study. A few of our writers, as 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD. 


263 


Henry James and T. Marion Crawford, make their home 
in England or on the Continent. The modern languages 
of Europe are widely studied. Foreign books, either in 
the original or in translations, are extensively read. In 
these ways our literature is influenced by movements 
abroad, and our culture assumes a cosmopolitan character. 

The present period is an era of social progress. The 
facilities of production have greatly cheapened the neces¬ 
saries of life. Wages have generally increased ; and the 
poor, as well as the rich, live better than ever before. 
But, at the same time, there is social unrest. Many be¬ 
lieve that the existing economic conditions are not final. 
Wasteful wealth sometimes exists by the side of starving 
poverty. Our gigantic combinations of capital, which 
often abuse their power to wrong the people, are com¬ 
monly recognized as a serious evil. Great attention is 
given to the study of economic and sociological questions. 
Along with numerous scientific treatises, we sometimes 
have presented, as in Bellamy’s “ Looking Backward,” a 
new Utopia for our contemplation. 

Religion always exerts a strong influence upon litera¬ 
ture. It deals with the highest interests of human life. 
There are many who regard religion as the dominant fac¬ 
tor in social progress. In the past, as we have seen, it 
has been like an atmosphere to our literature. In spite 
of the scepticism reflected in much of our literature, 
the religious life of our people was never deeper than it 
is to-day. But Christianity has become practical rather 
than dogmatic. A spirit of reverence, righteousness, and 
charity counts for more than mere adherence to elaborate 
creeds. A sense of stewardship is leading to a larger 
practical benevolence. The church is in sympathy with 


264 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


every movement to relieve the unfortunate and reclaim 
the lost. It proclaims the unselfish love of the gospel as 
a solution of our great social problems. No inconsider¬ 
able part of our literature to-day, both in periodicals and 
in books, is occupied in some way with the discussion of 
„ religious themes. 

In its relation to literature, philosophy is scarcely less 
influential than religion. Sometimes, as with Emerson, it 
is difficult to draw the line between them. Philosophy 
seeks the fullest explanation of nature and of life. It is 
our way of looking upon the world. We cannot fully 
understand an author until we know what he thinks of 
God, nature, and man. His fundamental beliefs in these 
three great departments of human knowledge will con¬ 
sciously or unconsciously color his thoughts and feelings. 
In America the prevailing philosophy is theistic ; and it 
gives a pure, sane, and cheerful tone to our literature, 
which forms, in this particular, a favorable contrast with 
much of the current literature of Europe. Among the 
far-reaching influences recently introduced into science 
and philosophy is the theory of evolution. 

In fiction there has been a notable reaction against the 
romanticism of the earlier part of the century. It is not 
easy to give a complete and satisfactory definition of ro¬ 
manticism. Victor Hugo says that it is freedom in litera¬ 
ture. It presents what is imaginative or fantastic, rather 
than what is real. It gives prominence to the poetic side 
of life. It aims at the picturesque in situation, thought, 
and expression. Its themes are generally such as lend 
themselves readily to idealistic treatment. It deals largely 
with the legendary tales and chivalrous deeds of the past. 
The Waverley novels are written in the romantic spirit, 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD. 


265 


and invest the Middle Ages with an imaginative beauty. 
In its extreme manifestation, romanticistn presents what 
is unreal, fantastic, melodramatic. 

Realism, as the term indicates, adheres to reality. It 
is a movement in keeping with the practical, scientific 
spirit of our age. It begins with discarding what is ideal¬ 
istic or unreal in characters and situations. It aims at 
being true to life. “ For our own part,” says W. D. 
Howells, the leader of the realistic school of novelists in 
America, “we confess that we do not care to judge any 
work of the imagination without first of all applying this 
test to it. We must ask ourselves, before we ask anything 
else, Is it true, — true to the motives, the impulses, the 
principles, that shape the life of actual men and women ? ” 
For several decades the best fiction of Christendom has 
been dominated by the realistic spirit. It has given us 
faithful studies of human society, not as it ought to be, 
but as it really is. 

The three great leaders of realism to-day are Tolstoi', 
Zola, and Ibsen. They are men of extraordinary genius 
and power, princes in the realm of fiction. Their works 
are widely read. Some of our leading novelists — How¬ 
ells, James, Crawford — have been deeply influenced by 
them. After acknowledging his obligations to Zola and 
Ibsen, Howells says of Tolstoi': “As much as one merely 
human being can help another, I believe that he has 
helped me; he has not influenced me in aesthetics only, 
but in ethics too, so that I can never again see life in 
the way I saw it before I knew him.” 

As an effort truly to represent life we must acknowl¬ 
edge the worth of realism. In its proper application, it 
places the novel on an immovable basis. It holds the 


266 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


mirror up to nature. Unfortunately, the realists have not, 
in many cases, been true to their fundamental principles. 
The great leaders of realism abroad have been tainted 
with a fatal pessimism. They have seen only one side 
of life — the darker side of sin, and wretchedness, and 
despair. They often descend to what is coarse, impure, 
obscene. No doubt their pictures are true, as far as they 
go. But the fatal defect of their work is that it does not 
reflect life as a whole. It does not portray the pure and 
noble and happy side of life, which is just as real as the 
other. In this way, though our American novelists have 
largely avoided the mistake, it is possible for realism to 
become as false to human life as the wildest romanticism. 

Except in the hands of genius, realism is apt to be 
dull. It gives us tedious photographs. There are times 
when we do not care so much for instruction as for amuse¬ 
ment and recreation. This fact opens a legitimate field 
for the imaginative story-teller. There is to-day a reac¬ 
tion against realism in the form of what has been called 
the new romanticism. It does not present to us elaborate 
studies of life, but entertains us with an interesting or 
exciting story. The leaders of this movement are the 
English writers, Doyle, Stevenson, Weyman, and Hope, 
whose works are extensively read in this country. 

During the first third of the present century the lite¬ 
rary centre of our country was in New York. Cooper, 
Irving, Bryant, to say nothing of Drake, Halleck, and 
Paulding, resided there. Subsequently the centre was 
changed to Boston, where, or in its vicinity, lived Emer¬ 
son, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Holmes, and others, 
who have been the chief glory of American letters. 
These two groups were successively dominant in our lit- 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD. 


267 


erature. At present the literary talent of our country is 
widely disseminated. The West and the South have en¬ 
tered the field as never before; and in recent years wri¬ 
ters like Bret Harte, Joaquin Miller, George W. Cable, 
Sidney Lanier, Joel Chandler Harris, Thomas Nelson 
Page, Miss Murfree, and others, have won a fair propor¬ 
tion of literary laurels. Fiction has assumed a wider 
range. It has been made to illustrate life in every part 
of our broad land. It has employed dialectical peculiari¬ 
ties to the point of satiety. The patrician and old family 
servant of the days of slavery ; the Creole of Louisiana; 
the dwellers among the Tennessee mountains; the pio¬ 
neers, miners, and adventurers of the West; the fisherman 
of New England, —all these, as well as the social life of 
our cities, have been graphically and faithfully portrayed. 

Our literature has attained its critical independence. 
In forming our estimate of a work of art, we no longer 
anxiously wait for the European verdict. The multiplica¬ 
tion of literary journals, as well as the wide prevalence of 
literary culture, has fostered a critical spirit. Stoddard, 
Stedman, Whipple, Howells, not to mention many others, 
all deserve to rank high, not only for their achievements 
in other departments of literature, but also for their work 
in criticism. In some cases, as perhaps with Poe, Joaquin 
Miller, and Walt Whitman, it has been necessary to set 
ourselves against the judgment of foreign critics, who are 
too apt to accept what is eccentric or melodramatic as 
something distinctively American. 

A noteworthy feature of the present period is the 
large number of female writers. In both prose and poetry 
they have attained a high degree of excellence. The old 
theory of the intellectual inferiority of woman has been 


268 


AMERICAN LITERATURE. 


exploded. Admitted to the same educational advantages 
as men, whether in separate or co-educational institutions, 
our young women have proved themselves equally success¬ 
ful in study. They have found an open field in literature, 
and have occupied it with eminent ability. Among those 
who have achieved eminence are Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 
Helen Hunt Jackson, Mary Noailles Murfree, Frances 
Hodgson Burnett, Mary E. Wilkins, and many others. 

This has been called the children’s age. Never before 
was the responsibility of training children more strongly 
felt. The rigorous discipline of former times has given 
way to a kindly and sympathetic training. Our schools 
are made as attractive as possible. The methods of in¬ 
struction are studiously adjusted to child nature. The 
text-books are interesting in matter and attractive in form. 
Children’s periodicals are multiplied, and in many cases 
are edited with eminent taste and ability. There never 
before was such a wealth of literature for young people. 
Our ablest writers have not disdained to employ their 
talents for the entertainment and instruction of youth. 
Among the long list of those who have contributed to 
our juvenile literature are J. T. Trowbridge, Mrs. A. D. T. 
Whitney, Louisa M. Alcott, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, and 
Mrs. Burnett. 

Americans have a strong sense of humor. Nowhere 
else is a joke more keenly relished. Nearly every periodi¬ 
cal, not excluding the religious weekly, has its column for 
wit and humor; and not a few of our papers are devoted 
exclusively to the risible side of our nature. Among our 
writers have been a number of humorists. If they have 
not generally reached a high refinement of wit, they have 
nevertheless brought the relief of laughter to many a weary 


SECOND NATIONAL PERIOD. 


269 


moment. Charles Farrar Browne (“Artemus Ward ”) and 
H. W. Shaw (“Josh Billings”) may be regarded as pro¬ 
fessional humorists. Among those who have occupied 
a higher plane is Charles Dudley Warner, whose humor 
is delicate in quality, and Samuel L. Clemens (“ Mark 
Twain ”), who deservedly ranks as our greatest humorist. 

Poetry is less prominent in our literature than during 
the reign of Longfellow, Whittier, and Lowell. Since the 
death of the great singers of the earlier part of this cen¬ 
tury at home and abroad, no one has risen to take their 
place. There is no dearth of poets, but they belong to 
the lower ranges of song. The poetry of the present 
time is artistic rather than creative, refined rather than 
powerful. The present may be regarded as an age of 
prose. Fiction largely predominates. But the sphere of 
poetry is the highest in literature. It is the language 
of seers; and when the fulness of time again comes, there 
will no doubt arise great singers, to give expression to the 
highest thought and noblest aspirations of our race. 






INDEX. 


* 


Abbott, Jacob, 95. 

Abbott, John S. C., 95. 

Alcott, Amos Bronson, 91. 

Alcott, Louisa M., 256. 

Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 253. 

Allston, Washington, 93, no. 

American literature, 3; development in 
present century, 4 ; favorable condi¬ 
tions, 5 ; periods, 6. 

Articles of Confederation, 65. 

Bancroft, George, 16, 94. 

Barlow, Joel, 59, 70. 

Bay Psalm Book, 18. 

Berkeley, Bishop, 33. 

Berkeley, Sir William, 14. 

Blair, Rev. James, 14. 

Blair, William, 31 
Boyesen, Hjalmar Hjorth, 255. 

Bradford, William, 9. 

Bradstreet, Anne, 10. 

Brainerd, David, 31. 

Brook Farm, 107, 171. 

Brown, Charles Brockden, 59, 68. 
Browne, Charles F., 256. 

Browning, Mrs., quoted, 160. 

Bryant, William Cullen, sketch of, 134; 
upright character, 134; moral element 
in literature, 134 ; ancestry, 135 ; 
childish precocity, 135 ; poetic bent, 
136; legal studies, 136; as a lawyer, 
137; love of nature, 137; “ Thanatop- 
sis,” 138; “To a Waterfowl,” 139; 
marriage, 140; domestic life, 140; “A 
Forest Hymn,” 140; “Death of the 
Flowers,” 141 ; “Journey of Life,” 
141 ; Evening Post , 142; prose writ¬ 


ings, 142 ; advice to a young man, 
142; peculiarities, 143; travels, 143; 
addresses, 143; as a poet, 144; “The 
Poet,” 144; on poetic style, 145; his 
poems abroad, 145; relations with Ir¬ 
ving, 145 ; critique of his poetry, 146 ; 
translations, 147; country residences, 
148; religious views, 148; death, 149; 
estimate of, 149. 

Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 255. 

Burroughs, John, 256. 

Byles, Mather, 31. 

Byrd, William, 31. 

Cable, George W., 255. 

Carleton, Will, 257. 

Cary, Alice, 257. 

Cary, Phoebe, 257. 

Censorship of Press, 34. 

Channing, William Ellery, 91. 

Child, Lydia Maria, 93. 

Children’s Age, 268. 

Civil War, effect of, 260. 

Clarke, James Freeman, 168, 254. 

Clemens, Samuel L., 236. 

Colonies, tendency to union, 36, 38. 

Colonists, American, 35. 

Colonization, English, French, and 
Spanish, 11, 38. 

Constitution adopted, 66; ratified, 67. 

Continental Congress, 63. 

Convention of Albany, 39. 

Cooke, John Esten, 256. 

Cooke, Rose Terry, 254. 

Cooper, James Fenimore, sketch of, 122 ; 
a national writer, 122 ; early years, 
122; defective education, 123; enters 


271 






272 


INDEX. 


the navy, 123; marriage, 124; “Pre¬ 
caution,” 124 ; “ The Spy,” 125 ; “ The 
Pioneers,” 125; “The Pirate,” 126; 
“Last of the Mohicans,” 126; in New 
York, 127; goes abroad, 127; literary 
work there, 128; controversies, 128; 
return to America, 129; libel suits, 
129; “History of U. S. Navy,” 130; 
Leatherstocking Series, 130; his opin¬ 
ion of, 131 ; estimate of, 131 ; critique 
of his writings, 132. 

Cotton, John, 9. 

Crawford, F. Marion, 254. 

Curtis, George William, 245. 

Dana, Richard Henry, 94. 

Deland, Margaret, 255. 

De Quincey, quoted, 168. 

Dial , The , 106, 171. 

Dodge, Mary A., 257. 

Drake, Joseph Rodman, 91. 

Dwight, Timothy, 59, 68. 

Edinburgh Review , quoted, 102. 

Education, in First Colonial Period, 16; 
in Second, 34; in First National Pe¬ 
riod, 98 ; at present, 262. 

Edwards, Jonathan, sketch of, 51 ; char¬ 
acter, 51 ; ancestry, 51 ; precocity, 52 ; 
student in Yale, 52 ; religious interest, 
53; preacher in New York, 53; tutor 
in Yale, 53; his resolutions, 53; in 
Northampton, 54 ; studious habits, 54 ; 
as a preacher, 54; “ Some Thoughts 
Concerning the Present Revival of 
Religion in New England,” 55; re¬ 
signs, 55 ; at Stockbridge, 56 ; “ Free¬ 
dom of the Will,” 56 ; call to Princeton, 
56; “ History of Redemption,” 57; es¬ 
timate of, 58. 

Eggleston, Edward, 256. 

Eliot, John, 9. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, sketch of, 164; 
a great thinker, 164; a seer, 165; 
idealists and mystics, 165; sturdy 
sense, 166; ancestry, 166; as teacher, 
166; as preacher, 167; goes abroad, 


167; as lecturer, 168; at Concord, 
169; “Concord Hymn,” 169; “Na¬ 
ture,” 170; Transcendental Club, 170; 
transcendentalism, 170; The Dial 
171; Brook Farm, 171; “Essays,” 
172 * philosophy of, 173 ; studious life, 
173; “Threnody,” 174; second series 
of “Essays,” 174; address at Cam¬ 
bridge, 174; “Representative Men,” 
175; “Poems,” 175; critique of, 175; 
student of nature, 177 : literary meth¬ 
ods, 179 ; last years, 179. 

England and France in America, 37. 

Evans, Augusta J., 257. 

Everett, Alexander II., 92. 

Everett, Edward, 92. 

“ Federalist, The,” 66. 

Federalists and Anti-Federalists, 66. 

Field, Eugene, 256. 

Fields, James T., 94. 

First Colonial Period, n. 

First National Period, 97. 

Fiske, John, 254. 

Franklin, Benjamin, sketch of, 41 ; popu¬ 
larity, 41 ; fondness for reading, 41 ; 
style formed on Spectator , 42 ; learns 
printing, 42 ; in Philadelphia, 43 ; in 
England, 43 ; with Keimer, 43 ; lite¬ 
rary club, 44 ; self-control, 44 ; modesty 
of statement, 44; business methods, 
45; founds a newspaper, 45; “Poor 
Richard’s Almanac,” 46; public spir¬ 
ited citizen, 46 ; linguistic studies, 47 ; 
delegate to Albany Convention, 47; 
in Braddock’s campaign, 48 ; electrical 
experiments, 48 ; representative abroad, 
49; governor of Pennsylvania, 49; 
last years, 50. 

Freneau, Philip, 59, 68. 

Garrison, William Lloyd, 103. 

Gilder, Richard Watson, 253. 

Goodrich, Samuel G., 94. 

Griswold, Rufus W., 159, 162. 

Guizot, quoted, 88. 



INDEX. 


273 


Hale, Edward Everett, 254. 

Hale, Sarah Josepha, 92. 

Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 92. 

Hamilton, Alexander, sketch of, 81 ; an¬ 
cestry, 81 ; youthful ambition, 81 ; lit¬ 
erary bent, 82 ; espouses Colonial 
cause, 82; pamphlets, 83; faces a 
mob, 83 ; studies military science, 83 , 
on Washington’s staff, 84; quarrel, 
84; popularity, 85 ; marriage, 85 ; in 
Congress, 86 ; “ Federalist,” 86, 87 ; in 
N. Y. Convention, 87; Secretary of 
Treasury, 88 ; relations with Jefferson, 
88; as statesman, 88; as lawyer, 89; 
duel with Burr, 89; character, 89; 
Kent’s tribute, 90. 

Harte, Francis Bret, 253. 

Harvard College, 17, 99. 

Hawthorne, Julian, 255. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, sketch of, 181 ; 
genius, 181 ; ancestry, 181 ; boyhood, 
182; at college, 182; literary bent, 
183; reading, 183; studious habits, 
184; critique of style, 184; “Twice- 
Told Tales,” 184 ; Longfellow’s criti¬ 
cism, 185 ; Boston custom-house, 185 ; 
Brook Farm, 185 ; habits of observa¬ 
tion, 186; marriage, 187; “Mosses 
from an Old Manse,” 187; custom¬ 
house at Salem, 188; “The Scarlet 
Letter,” 189; “House of Seven Ga¬ 
bles,” 190 ; “ Wonder-Book,” and 

“ Tanglewood Tales,” T90; consul to 
Liverpool, 191 ; “ Our Old Home,” 
191 ; “ Marble Faun,” 192 ; sense of 
human guilt, 192 ; last years, 192 ; es¬ 
timate of, 192. 

Hayne, Paul IL, 257. 

Holland, J. G., 95, 149. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, sketch of, 239; 
popularity, 239 ; characteristics, 239 ; 
distrust of men of wit, 240 ; belief in 
heredity, 240 ; ancestry, 240 ; “ Auto¬ 
biographical Notes,” 240 ; manner of 
reading, 241 ; at Harvard, 241 ; “class 
of ’29,” 241 ; studies medicine and 
goes abroad, 241; “Old Ironsides,” 


242; practising physician, 242; lec¬ 
tures at Dartmouth, 243 ; first volume 
of verse, 243 ; “ The Last Leaf,” 243 ; 
marriage, 243; professor at Harvard, 
244 ; as popular lecturer, 244 ; “ Auto¬ 
crat of Breakfast Table,” 244 ; “ The 
Chambered Nautilus,” 245 ; “ Content¬ 
ment,” 245 ; Saturday Club, 246; Bos¬ 
ton’s laureate, 246; theological pro¬ 
clivities, 246 ; “ Professor at Breakfast 
Table,” 247; “Poet at Breakfast Ta¬ 
ble,” 247; novels, 248; as biographer, 
248; resigns, 249; “ One Hundred 
Days in Europe,” 249; “ Over the 
Teacups,” 249; last days, 250; char¬ 
acter, 250. 

Ilopkinson, Francis, 59. 

Hopkinson, Joseph, 59. 

Howells, W. I)., 253, 265. 

Humor, American, 268. 

International Relations, 262. 

Irving, Washington, sketch of, 108 ; 
Thackeray’s remark, 108 ; his name, 
108; education, 108 ; excursions, 109; 
visit to Europe, 109; philosophic 
spirit, no; interest in painting, no; 
Salmagundi , in; in politics, in; 
early romance, 112 ; “ Knickerbocker,” 
112; merchandizing, 112; in Wash¬ 
ington, .112; Select Reviews, 113; in 
Europe, 113; “Sketch Book,” 114; 
its reception, 115 ; “ Bracebridge Hall,” 
115; “Tales of a Traveller,” 116; 
“ Life of Columbus,” 116 ; “ Conquest 
of Granada,” 116; “The Alhambra,” 
117; Secretary of legation, 117; “ Tour 
on Prairie,” 117; Sunnyside, 118; 
prominence, 118 ; literary labors, 118; 
minister to Spain, 119; “ Life of Gold¬ 
smith,” 119; “Life of Washington,” 
120; character, 120. 

Jackson, Helen Hunt, 257. 

James, Henry, 253. 

Jamestown, settlement of, n. 

Jefferson, Thomas, 62; sketch of, 71; 



274 


INDEX. 


great epochs and great men, 71; rank, 
71; ancestry, 71; education, 72; law 
student, 72; as lawyer, 72; member 
of House of Burgesses, 73 ; marriage, 
73 ; committee of correspondence, 74 ; 
day of fasting and prayer, 74 ; “ Rights 
of British America,” 74; Continental 
Congress, 75; “ Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence,” 75, 76; Virginia legisla¬ 
ture, 76 ; educational system, 76; va¬ 
rious positions, 77 ; Secretary of State, 

77 ; Democratic leader, 77 ; president, 

78 ; administration, 78 ; U niversity of 
Virginia, 79 ; character, 79. 

Jesuits in America, 38. 

Jewett, Sarah Orne, 255. 

Johnson, Edward, 9. 

Johnston, Richard Malcolm, 256. 

Kennedy, John P., 93. 

Lanier, Sidney, 257. 

Larcom, Lucy, 258. 

Lazarus, Emma, 257. 

Leland, Charles G., 257. 

Literature, study of, 1 ; definition, 1 ; 
determining factors, 2 ; American, 3- 
6 ; 259 ; literary centres, 266 ; critical 
independence, 267. 

Livingston, William, 31. 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, sketch 
of, 194 ; popularity, 194 ; calm life, 
194; ancestry, 195 ; early surround¬ 
ings, 195; at college, 195; literary 
bent, 196; professor at Bowdoin, 196; 
goes abroad, 196; “Outre Mer,” 197; 
marriage, 197 ; “ Footsteps of Angels,” 
197; called to Harvard, 198; “Hype¬ 
rion,” 198 ; as a teacher, 198 ; “ Three 
Friends of Mine,” 199; “Voices of 
the Night,” 199 ; “ Ballads and 

Other Poems,” 200; critique, 200; 
“ The Spanish Student,” 201 ; “ Poems 
on Slavery,” 201 ; “ Poets and Poetry 
of Europe,’’ 202; “Evangeline,” 203; 
unfavorable criticism, 204 ; “ Kavan- 
agh,” 204 ; “ The Seaside and the Fire¬ 


side,” 204; resignation at Harvard, 
205 ; “ Hiawatha,” 205 ; “ The Court¬ 
ship of Miles Standish,” 206 ; “ Divine 
Comedy,” 208; “Tales of a Wayside 
Inn,” 208 ; trilogy of “ Cliristus,” 209 ; 
other poems, 210 ; death, 210. 

Lossing, Benson J., 95. 

Louis XIV., policy of, 38. 

Lounsbury, 127. 

Lowell, James Russell, sketch of, 211 ; 
varied greatness, 211 ; originality, 211 ; 
New England spirit, 212; ancestry, 
212; at Harvard, 213; “A Year’s 
Life,” 213; Pioneer. 213; second vol¬ 
ume of poems, 213; “Biglow Pa¬ 
pers,” 215; “Vision of Sir Launfal,” 
216; “A Fable for Critics,” 217; lec¬ 
tures on British poets, 218; called to 
Harvard, 218; editor Atlantic , 218; 
“ Fireside Travels,” 219 ; “ Under the 
Willows,” 219 ; Commemoration odes, 
220; “The Cathedral,” 221; prose 
writings, 222 ; as a critic, 223 ; minis¬ 
ter to Spain and to England, 223 ; 
“ Democracy and Other Addresses,” 
224 ; estimate of, 224. 

Madison, James, 59. 

Marshall, John, 59. 

Massachusetts, settlement of, 16. 

Mather, Cotton, sketch of, 25 ; literary 
prominence, 25 ; ancestry, 25 ; typical 
Puritan, 25 ; as a preacher, 26; mar¬ 
riage, 27; industry, 27; scholarship 
and literary activity, 27; “ Magnalia 
Christi,” 28 ; “ Bonifacius,” 29 ; witch¬ 
craft tragedy, 29; advocates vaccina¬ 
tion, 30; aspires to presidency of 
Harvard, 30; estimate of, 30. 

Mather, Increase, 10. 

Mayflower, landing of, 15. 

McMaster, Si. 

Miller, Cincinnatus Heine, 257. 

Morris, George P., 93. 

Motley, John Lothrop, 94. 

Moulton, Louise Chandler, 256. 

Murfree, Mary Noailles, 256. 




INDEX. 


275 


New England, settlement of, 15; popu¬ 
lar education, 16; causes of literary 
eminence, 17, 100. 

News Letter , 34. 

North American Review , 99. 

Osgood, Francis Sargent, 94. 

Ossoli, Margaret Fuller, 91. 

Page, Thomas Nelson, 255. 

Paine, Thomas, 59. 

Palfrey, James Gorham, 94. 

Paulding, James K., 91. 

Percival. James Gates, 92. 

Philosophy, influence of, 264. 

Plymouth, settlement of, 11. 

Poe, Edgar Allan, sketch of, 150; diffi¬ 
culty in forming estimate, 150; pecu¬ 
liar place in literature, 150; ancestry, 
150; early training, 151; in England, 
151 ; at University of Virginia, 152; 
seeking his fortune, 152 ; in the army, 
153; at West Point, 153; his poetic 
principle, 154 ; “ A 1 Aaraaf ” and “ Is- 
rafel,” 154 ; imitates Moore and Byron, 
155 ;“ A MS. Found in a Bottle/’ 156 ; 
Southern Literary Messenger, 156; as 
critic, 156; “Arthur Gordon Pym,” 
157 ; The Gentleman ’ sMagazine, 157 ; 
quarrel with Burton, 157; edits Gra¬ 
ham's Magazine , 158; violent criti¬ 
cism, 15S ; Griswold’s description, 
159; critique of his tales, 159; Even¬ 
ing Mirror, 160; “The Raven,” 160; 
Broadway Journal, 160; “Literati of 
New York,” 160; principal poems, 
161 ; personal traits, 162 ; devotion to 
his wife, 162; “Eureka,” 163; esti¬ 
mate of, 163. 

Poetry, present tendency, 269. 

Prescott, William ITickling, 94. 

Press, periodical, 99; influence of, 260. 

Preston, Margaret J., 258. 

Puritans, 15. 

Read, Thomas Buchanan, 95. 

Realism, 265. 


Religion, influence of, 263. 

Revolution, leaders of, 61; causes, 62; 
justice, 64. 

Revolutionary Period, 61 ; political lit¬ 
erature, 63 ; other literature, 68. 

Riley, James Whitcomb, 257. 

Roe, Edward Payson, 255. 

Romanticism, 264. 

Ryan, Abram J., 257. 

Sandys, George, 9. 

Saxe, John Godfrey, 94. 

Science, advance of, 101. 

Scudder, Horace E., 256. 

Second Colonial Period, 33. 

Second National Period, 259. 

Sedgwick, Catharine Maria, 93. 

Sewall, Samuel, 31. 

Sigourney, Lydia Huntley, 93. 

Simms, William Gilmore, 93. 

Slavery, 103. 

Smith, Captain John, romantic life and 
character, 20; early years, 20; roving 
adventure, 21 ; experiences in Mediter¬ 
ranean, 21 ; fights against Turks, 21 ; 
capture and escape, 21 ; at Jamestown, 
22; rescued by Pocahontas, 22; acci¬ 
dent, 23; testimony of companions, 
23 ; voyage to New England, 23; list 
of works, 23 ; summary of his life, 24 ; 
estimate of, 24. 

Social progress, 263. 

Spotswood, Governor, 13. 

State Rights, 103. 

Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 253. 

Stith, William, 31. 

Stockton, Frank R., 254. 

Stoddard, Richard Henry, 253. 

Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 95. 

Strachey, William, 9. 

Tally rand, quoted, 88. 

Taylor, Bayard, 95. 

Terhune, Mary V., 256. 

Thackeray, quoted, 108. 

Thaxter, Celia, 258. 

Thomas, Edith M., 258. 





276 


INDEX. 


Thompson, James, quoted, 2. 

Thompson, Maurice, 257. 

Thoreau, Henry David, 91. 

Timrod, Henry, 257, 

Transcendentalism, 105, 170 
Trowbridge, J. T., 254. 

Trumbull, John, 59, 68. 

Tyler, M. C\, 14. 

Unitarian controversy, 104. 

United States, growth of, 97. 

Virginia, settlement of, 12 ; literary con¬ 
ditions, 13. 

Wallace, Lewis, 255. 

War of 1812, 67. 

Ward, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 255. 

W are, William, 92. 

Warner, Charles Dudley, 120, 254. 
Washington, first president, 67, 
Whipple, E. P., 254. 

White, Richard Grant, 254. 

Whitman, Walt, 94. 

Whitney, A. D. T.. 256. 

Whittier, John Greenleaf, sketch of, 225 ; 
Quaker ancestry, 225 ; self-made, 225 ; 
“ The Barefoot Boy,” 223; influence 


of Burns, 226 ; acquaintance with Gar¬ 
rison, 226 ; at school, 226; editor New 
England Weekly Review , 227 ; anti¬ 
slavery labors, 227; Pennsylvania 
Freeman , 228 ; “ Voices of Freedom,” 
228 ; “ Mogg Megone,” etc., 229 ; dem¬ 
ocratic sympathies, 229 ; “ Songs of 
Labor,” 229; early romance, 230; a 
bard of faith, 230 ; National Era , 231 ; 
“ The Last Walk in Autumn,” 231 ; 
“ Margaret Smith's Journal,” etc., 232 ; 
“ Home Ballads, Poems, and Lyrics,” 
232 ; “ In War Time,” 233 ; “ Barbara 
Frietchie,” 234 ; “ Snow-Bound,” 234 ; 
“ The Tent on the Beach,” 236; old 
age, 236 ; critique, 237 ; character, 237. 

Wilde, Richard Henry, 93. 

William and Mary College, 14. 

Willis, Nathaniel P.,93. 

Winsor, Justin, 12. 

Winthrop, John, 9. 

Wirt, William, 59. 

Women as writers, 267. 

Woodworth, Samuel, 92. 

Woolson, Constance Fenimore, 255. 

“ Yankee Doodle,” 69. 



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Carlyle’s Essay on Burns.35 “ 

Edited by William K. Wickes, High School, Syracuse, 

N.Y. 

Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome. 

Edited by D. D. Pratt, High School, Portsmouth, Ohio. 

Dryden’s Palamon and Arcite. 35 u 

Edited by W. F. Gregory, High School, Hartford, Conn. 

All are substantially bound in cloth. The usual discount will be made for 
these books in quantities. 


LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, Publishers. 
BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



















































































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